


Die Durch Die Hoelle Gehen

by SinisterIntentions



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Survival Horror, Suspense, The Witcher Lore, Torture, Vampire Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Werewolf, Werewolf Eren Yeager, Zombies, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:49:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterIntentions/pseuds/SinisterIntentions
Summary: Titans are zombies and the world is a post-apocalyptic, supernatural wasteland.





	1. Here Comes the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work and is un-beta'd. Feel free to leave words of encouragement, general comments, or suggestions for improvement. Artwork is always welcome! Please message me if you'd like to beta this story.

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 **“Hell is empty and the demons are here.”**  
― William Shakespeare

 

**Year 845.**

Shiganshina district, has always been relatively quiet. A vast majority of the human population lives in blissful ignorance of supernatural races and the post-apocalyptic wasteland held at bay by fifty meters of stone, mortar, and concrete. Nearly one century ago, the remainder of humanity sought refuge within three immense rings of portioned land: Wall Sina: the innermost city of high society and residence to the King’s lineage, Wall Rose: the middle interior section, and Wall Maria: a great expanse of farming land with cyst-like outcroppings of poor metropolitan areas. This was commonplace knowledge. To Eren, it offered nothing more than a neat gathering of bodies for when the infestation spread, ripping through their defenses, and slaughtering everyone like gift-wrapped cattle. The mentality of “if it doesn’t impact me directly, why bother?” was widely accepted, the populace too consumed by the short-sighted trivialities and false safety blanket of peace to recognize cage bars. He held no love for Shiganshina. No fortress was impenetrable. It was idiotic to assume so. Standing in the open market – chatter bubbling from the wooden vendor stalls and bustling with the midday throng of buyers – he wished calamity would befall this place.

During the course of history, where at one time all manner of non-humanoid, humanoid, and human nationalities were able to intermingle and conduct their lives in a manner of equality, there is now a notable segregation gap in civil rights. Humans are no longer the minority. As a whole they exhibit fear, distrust, and preconceived notions against any hint at change or deviation from their definition of “normal”. The Church of the Walls, being a group of superstitious radicals, have created a witch hunting faction. These “guards” patrol the streets, strictly enforcing laws governed by self-serving bureaucrats to keep such individuals oppressed. Their kind is easily recognizable, barely concealed the armor beneath robes bearing holy symbols. Many crusaders preach and forcefully impose their values on everyone. Military personnel overlook the corruption. Some races manage to hide in plain sight, scraping by meager earnings under the pretense of normalcy while others have nearly been hunted to extinction.

Eren doesn’t understand the rationale behind these hateful choices. Why further divide and break the dwindling remains of humanity? Shouldn’t those efforts be focused on exterminating the titans? Why play into fear mongering or isolation tactics toward certain groups when everyone already has the potential to be eaten at any given moment? It disgusted him.

The Jaegers are descendants from one of the first, oldest clans of werewolves. There are traditions, folklore, and established practices linked to the family name which have been passed through generations. Eren has not yet bothered to learn them. They are meaningless in this day and age where families can’t even walk the streets without threat of being beaten, jailed, or burned at the stake for witchcraft. Their people are too few and far in-between. Rallying them would be next to impossible.

A voice gently interrupted his thoughts, scattering them.

“Daydreaming again, Eren? We need to get these groceries for mom.” Mikasa said, prompting him to follow with a tug on his long sleeve.

When Mikasa’s parents, a wood elf and bruxa, were killed during an attempted bandit raid, she had been welcomed into the Jaeger household. In the end, it was kept under wraps that Eren and Mikasa single-handedly massacred four slave brokers. The wealthy often had specific tastes – their morals questionable, sketchy and often hypocritical – which included owning freaks as indentured servants. If it meant a safe Mikasa, he would kill a thousand times over to procure the same outcome every time.

Eren drew back, expression scrunched up in concentration.

“Hold on. I hear something.”

He paused, tilting his head to locate an unknown source. There was nothing in that direction beyond alleyways. The road where they were situated opened up into the European style agora a few blocks ago.

Mikasa hesitated, facing Eren, her eyes narrowed as if she too perceived an abrupt change.

“What—“

“There’s yelling. And… Fighting. Maybe. _I think_? I don’t know.”

He is on the receiving end of a rather pointed stare.

“It’s none of our business.”

A brief grimace of revulsion or outrage crossed Eren’s face.

“ _Business_ — We can’t just leave them! What if someone is in trouble?”

Mikasa swallowed an exasperated sigh.

“Let the Garrison handle it. That’s their job… If they aren’t drinking themselves under the table.”

Eren’s mouth twisted in annoyance as he motioned in a vague hand gesture toward the crowd. Mikasa found herself facing down that same single-minded determination she had become closely acquainted with throughout the years, a challenging spark alight in teal-green eyes.

“And do you see them anywhere?”

“You don’t need to personally get involved in _everything_ , Eren,” she chided.

He turned, poised to leave, having preemptively arrived at his own decision.

“I’m going, Mikasa, with or without you.”

The scenery blurred into an array of color - wind tearing through brown locks of hair as he leapt away at an inhuman height - awakening carefully dormant senses. Fragrances along with unfamiliar odors wafted past Eren’s nose, intensified and honed into a sharp awareness he was unable to disregard. Claws extended from once round, human fingernails, seeking purchase in brick exterior, righting himself when rounding a building too quickly at enhanced speeds. But the transformation was not complete. Eren fought to rein in the wolf struggling to be freed, ingrained in each fiber of his being to _run_.

Mikasa, to the left and behind ever so slightly, did not struggle to keep pace. Despite her growing, child-like stature, she moved with the fluid, easy grace of a predator. She was not new to the intrinsic animal nature that would bleed through Eren’s meticulously crafted human exterior, often during lapses of intense emotion or great duress. Those baser, more primal urges were essential for survival and she admired them, similar to her own abilities. She would keep Eren safe.

Fortunately, their journey was a short one, only a few blocks, and went unnoticed.

Before the pair were three teenage boys forming a semi-circle, taunting whatever was in the midst. Approaching on silent feet, Eren was the first to notice a larger than average feline creature, teeth bared in warning. Crouched low, the animal’s spine was arched defensively, posture on guard and ears flattened. All four paws bracketed a thick leather-bound book.

The group’s ringleader, a thin, edgy sort of person sporting a mousy face yelled obscenities, escalating the situation. His shoe lashed out, kicking the cat squarely in the rib cage. A pained yowl left the poor beast, its body momentarily collapsing onto the book.

“What was that, Arlert? Thinking about fighting back? That’s a crime, you know?”

Another blow came, opposite of the last, connecting with Armin’s shoulder. Joined by the sickening laughter of the owner, he loomed over the orange, striped huddle of fur protecting its only belonging, perceived more valuable than a few cracked bones.

“We should report you and that shitty grandfather of yours for possession of outside contraband.”

Although it seemed boy number three was reluctant to participate in the physical aspect of their attacks, his mocking voice served its purpose to drive the bullying home, words backed with more weight than any hit.

“Oh, isn’t that how your parents were killed? Mother said they built a fucking hot air balloon to escape having you for a child. What would they think looking at you now?”

“You’re still such a disappointment. You should kill yourself.” Boy number one chimed, adding his two cents.

“This town, _everyone_ , would be better off without your kind. There’s not a place in—“

“ _STOP IT_!”

Before anyone in the group was aware of their audience, a baseball-sized rock was hurled at them, smashing into one teen’s nose and cheek.  Stumbling from the force of impact, he was steadied by one his lackeys, spitting curses and raised a hand to either hide or staunch the flow of blood dripping from his broken nose. He choked, caught off-guard.

“What the hell—“

Armin snapped his head up, blue eyes dilated, afraid.

“That’s enough. Isn’t three against one an unfair advantage?”

Second projectile already in hand, Eren revealed himself, sliding out of the shadows.

“Ugh, what the fuck?! How dare you, freak—“

The leader makes an aborted movement toward Eren but is stopped short by his comrade, hand clasping the boy’s upper arm. His voice lowered to a harsh whisper.

“ _Don’t_. _Mikasa’s_ behind him.”

Either Eren wasn’t listening or was too fueled on by his adrenaline to notice.

The remaining team mate blanched. Mikasa’s eyes momentarily flashed between brown to red in the dim lighting, conveying a veiled threat and the sight was enough to instinctively force him into retreating a step, preparing to flee.

Through a wince of pain, their leader smirked, banking on the fact he was bigger and stronger to intimidate them.

“It seems monsters travel in swarms like the plague.” He jeered.

Shifting into a pitcher’s stance, Eren drew his arm back, readying his next throw.

“Do you want to test my accuracy? How much do you want to bet I could clock you in the face again before any of you even lay a hand on me? I wasn’t even using my entire strength last time.”

Mikasa shoved Eren aside as she moved to shield him, absolute murderous intent radiating from her.

“ _Leave **now**_.”

The group decided to make a tactical escape but not without their leader imparting a few parting words of “wisdom”.

“We won’t forget this! Don’t think you won’t see us again!”

Flustered, Eren tossed his makeshift weapon, arms spread out on either side as if negotiating.

“Mikasa, I didn’t ask for your help. They were scared of me. I had them exactly where I wanted!”

Mikasa levelled Eren with the full brunt of her glare.

“Then what, Eren? You would end up jailed for assault. And what would happen to your dream of joining the Survey Corps?”

At this, Eren has the presence of mind to look properly chastised, resembling a kicked puppy. He glanced down at the dirt, focusing on anything else but the cold truth.

“I haven’t told mom and dad yet but don’t think _I won’t_. I’m not about to lose _you_ just because of your inability to think intelligently or before you act.”

Continuing her journey to Armin, Mikasa doesn’t stop until she is kneeling in front of him, visually inspecting for wounds. She doesn’t reach for him, waiting for permission or any indicator her concern was unwarranted.

Armin bounced a glance between the two then shifted. His limbs elongated as bones rearranged themselves, golden fur receding to pink skin, and paws spread, giving way to individual fingers and toes until a naked boy sat in front of them. He sported shoulder length blonde hair, bangs trimmed in a line above a pair of blue eyes and his pupils constricted into cat-like slits, squinting against the light. He reached past the book to his left for the strewn articles of clothing, discarded in a hurried transformation.

“Don’t give Eren a hard time, Mikasa. It’s one of his redeeming qualities.”

Eren allowed his friend some modesty while he dressed, fixating his gaze on something in the distance.

“Glad to see your sense of humor wasn’t damaged, Armin.”

Armin huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“Along with everything else. Thank you both for saving me.”

If Eren and Mikasa noticed the reddened patches of skin bracketing either side of Armin’s ribs, neither mentioned it.

“Was it worth it?”

“What?” Armin questioned and frowned. Eren’s eyes flicked to the book with a minute nod of his head in clarification.

“That book.”

Lips curling into a Cheshire grin, Armin brightened as he snatched the object of interest, proudly holding it for both to see.

“This is from my grandfather’s library! It contains forgotten history before the walls…” Armin said with pause. “Werecats were a nomadic tribe of people. Scribes often recorded the encountered history.”

“Isn’t that knowledge taboo?”

“Technically speaking…”

“Breaking the law twice in one day? What are we, hardened criminals now?” Mikasa said dubiously.

“Hush, Mikasa!”

Armin waited until Eren crowded beside him and Mikasa edged closer to open a chapter focusing on geographical locations, finger scrawling along text of the old language.

“A vast expanse of water, larger than a lake, filled with so much salt that merchants could never gather it all. Snowy plains of sand…” Armin read ecstatically.

The information made Eren appear contemplative and suspicious.

“Now you’re just making things up. Sounds too farfetched… almost like a fairytale.” Eren started hesitantly. It sounded almost too good to be true. Was this a work of nonfiction?

Mikasa tucked her chin into the folds of her red scarf.

“Says the werewolf… Look at the world we live in. That’s most unbelievable.”

Armin’s enthusiasm gave way to a small, private smile, not at all discouraged by the nonbelievers.

“What a _grave_ sense of humor from the vampire.”

“Did you just make a pun?” Eren asked, gaping in outright disbelief.

“You know, _technically_ , our kind isn’t _dead_.” Mikasa stated, matter-of-factly.

Eren was unable to contain his groan at the deadpan quip.

“I can’t—“

A shock of yellow lightening illuminated the sky, displacing clouds lingering in the atmosphere in a swirl of air. The deafening crack of energy followed after, shattering the group’s effortless comradery, commanding their attention. There was a palpable tension blanketing the city, its heavy layer suffocating and something delicate hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of spiraling into cold terror. Massive plumes of steam billowed away from the wall, floating high above shingled rooftops, its distinct hiss during evaporation audible for miles.

Eren’s skin became clammy with inherent fear, pallor ashen and hands shaking, eyes imperceptibly wide, watching the smoke. Hair stood on end, prickling at the sudden charge. There was something horribly **_wrong_**. But yet, deep inside of him, he just _knew_.

That’s when the world erupted into a cacophony of sound. Giant boulders sailed overhead, shaking the ground upon collision. Debris rained from above, huge pieces collapsing houses, storefronts, and other buildings. Screams replaced the white noise of normalcy, a haunting, grief-stricken melody. People were dying.

Mikasa yanked Eren and Armin flat against the cobblestones, into the mud, a strong wind rushing past them, knocking them off balance from a nearby crash.

In that moment, only one thought was irrevocably clear: _he never wished for **this**_.


	2. Born Out of Blood and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the most part this work is planned out. It just needs to be written and I will attempt to update monthly. Feedback is always loved. <3

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 **“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.”**  
― Ernest Hemingway

 

 

**Year 850.**

Military factions have always been very accommodating for those of supernatural origin. There wasn’t a limit imposed on joining due to wielding magic, practicing of the dark arts, or the sheer variance in physical abilities. If you’re willing, that was more than sufficient. Why not dedicate yourself to the cause and fight for humanity? However, it was naive to believe that same humanity soldiers were dying to protect and preserve their basic freedoms would be more tolerant simply because you joined.

After the battle of Trost, the 104th training corps suffered many casualties. Numerous citizens and soldiers alike comprised the death toll.

Nearly comatose, two days passed before he gained lucidity. The first death Eren was informed of, hit the hardest. Marco Bott, a gentle soul and natural-born pacifier, strong in spite of his human form, was bitten in half, vertically down the middle, discovered by Jean during corpse removal. Gnats swarmed the air, ripe with decomposition, the putrid smell gagging all of those in the vicinity. Marco never warranted such a fate.

Armin encountered Franz Kefka, also human, missing his entire lower portion, intestines smeared along the cobblestones in a grotesque painting while Hannah Diamant, Franz’s lover and an antelope faun, attempted to resuscitate him to no avail. She diligently administered chest compressions, hysteria creeping into her voice until she too, was trampled beneath a titan’s foot, meeting her end.

Mina Carolina, a jovial dwarf, who was always ready to intervene, providing support or backup to a comrade as if her size was no hindrance, had her skull decapitated and Samuel, a dark elf, fell to his death when miscalculating his gear’s anchor, rendered unconscious by debris knocked loose, buried in a makeshift tomb under the same rubble. Sasha couldn’t make it to him in time. Mylius Zeramuski, another shy, cautious human, became surrounded after desperately chasing Mikasa, his legs severed and devoured, the rest of him following shortly after.

Then Eren remembered Thomas Wagner, the only werewolf in training with the exception of Commander Keith Shadis, both affiliated with different originating packs. Where Eren kept his secrets close, Thomas was optimistic to a fault, revealing his true self early on to their peers. Thomas, throwing himself headfirst into battle alongside an overzealous, rage-fueled Eren, was snatched mid-flight, blades instantaneously broken as if constructed from flimsy tin cans. Held above the gaping maw of his captor, desperately struggling to free himself, he was dropped feet first and whole. Terrified screams dissolved inside the rotting carcass, fading to nothing.

It is strange to imagine a world devoid of people you’ve spent enduring three years of hardships beside. Those same people who shared their individual hopes, dreams, and aspirations, doing daily chores, and personalized things that reminded Eren they were real, living beings, instead of a plain grave marker with an empty hole in the ground.

Eren hadn’t seen his remaining friends since the execution trial, where witnesses could do little beyond observe from the stands as a verdict was reached. He had passed them in the halls before Hanji blinded him. Mikasa’s expression was rife with protective fury, Armin’s hesitant and calculating, the only two who did not fear him- In the end, he did not know which regiment they were assigned to nor did he blame them if they chose different than the Scouting Legion. What if they were locked away in a manner similar to him? The thought “I might never see them again” hadn’t crossed his mind until he was leaving the capital city.

When sunrise broke the morning following Darius Zackly’s ruling, the Special Operations Squad departed Mitras, escorting Eren to a secure and secluded location in Wall Rose. Captain Levi wasn’t with them, an undisclosed mission taking precedence. Commander Erwin deemed it best to move Eren before word reached the public, sparking outrage, and other teams planned to regroup with them once their required duties were completed.

The building in question was a fortress. Once a designated rest point for traveling divisions, mainly the Garrison, it was square in shape, mounted cannons at each of the four corner towers. Its walls protected a central keep- three stories high, the main unit housed a taller, attached tower structure of its own.

Oluo Bozado, an orc with deep indigo skin and a nasty habit of biting his tongue, was assigned to giving Eren a tour, albeit half-heartedly, followed by a rather surly explanation regarding the accommodations. Then, completely done with the entire situation, he practically shoved the boy down the stairs, leaving him to catch his bearings. The disdain he held was so blatantly obvious, Eren couldn’t help but despair being treated as an equal from here on. What reason would the Corps have to trust a monster like him otherwise?

And of course, his room was in the dungeon, Eren thought bitterly, selecting the first cell he found. Only the best for their resident freak. The squad had also mentioned a failsafe in event he transformed while sleeping.

His knapsack was deposited— two sets of clothing cushioning a tiny bundle of hygiene products grabbed in haste— on a dusty wooden stand situated beside an even filthier bed. He then made quick work of stripping the sheets, balling them into a pile and dropped them unceremoniously outside the cast iron bars.

Eren then found himself traveling a long, intersecting corridor and began to explore, committing directions and little details to memory— renaissance style stone-work, the half-shell sconces, lit by candles, stained glass mosaics marking the temple on his way inside, notable absence of decorations and paintings in common areas, a moderate sized library with an eclectic range of literature- tidbits that proved the fortress was once inhabited.

Emerging from a different stairwell, his exploration was cut short after he nearly collided with one of the squad.

The other man hesitated in his tracks, a faint scuff of sound. Gunther Schultz is a faun, chestnut fur, decorated with white spots, and matching thin, beige antlers sporting two tips on each rack. His ears swiveled forward, on alert, tawny eyes watching cautiously, pinned on Eren. His body was still wrapped in a harness but the blade canister was detached and stored. In his hands were a mop and cleaning bucket. It made an odd sight.

From their few interactions, Eren supposed Gunther was a reasonable, no-nonsense type of man, driven by logic. Compared to Oluo’s boisterous, loud demeanor, Gunther was more reserved and quiet.

“Settled in? I was beginning to wonder if you died and was about to go searching.”

“Excuse me?” Eren fumed, sparing him a look of annoyance. Gunther shrugged, not willing to play into any theatrics.

“You’re assigned laundry and the wash basins are this way. We already gathered everything you might need,” he instead replied, defusing Eren’s irritation. He continued down the corridor, expecting Eren to fall into step beside him.

Well, at least this saved him from using his nose to find everyone. How convenient.

“Sir, will Captain Levi be arriving this evening?” Eren wondered aloud.

“Erwin didn’t tell you?” Gunther remarked, amused.

“Uh,” Eren said intelligently then started again. “Was there something I needed to be informed of?”

“No. It’s not of importance.”

 

 

 

Midday has come and gone, trickling into a pleasant afternoon. The sun has begun its descent toward the horizon, shimmering orange, fading to red, and rays of light quivered, filtering through dense trees lurking around the perimeter. Finding a reel from previously abandoned maneuver gear, Eren deconstructed and strung an army of makeshift clothes lines between metal posts, taking up residence in the courtyard near the separate manor house. The wire itself was still in marginally good condition, sturdy enough for laundry but not enough to pass an inspection. A flat expanse of training grounds and decorative stone wall, crumbling from seasonal exposure, separated him from the main southernmost building. To the east was a private copse of willow and oak trees, half purposed for aesthetic reasons, the other for bouts of maneuver gear exercises, equipped with titan dummies to mimic a forest scenario. Their horses were stabled near the west gate house, situated close to the fort’s single ground entrance.

Adjusting the linens, Eren smoothed out any apparent wrinkles, sweeping the flat of his palm along the cloth in a manner his mother used on a regular basis.

Unbidden, this sparked memories of another time to resurface, dredging up the festering resentment toward his circumstances—

_His steadfast mother, unyielding in her integrity yet genuine, warm, and spirited, collecting garments to avoid the impending downpour, instructing Eren to pick a basket._

_Armin and Mikasa gathered in the kitchen, barely enough room for one person let alone three, to aide Carla Jaeger in baking fresh sourdough bread, mingling scents of yeast and salt drifting through the house, warmed by the oven._

_Lullabies spoken in the tongue of Elders, transcribed through the generations, meant to comfort and ease nightmares. Tales of happier lives._

Along the castle’s outskirts, branches swayed in the breeze, reaching towards the heavens like sharp nails. Birds perched there became agitated, cackling in indignation at being disturbed or swooped down lower, finding a more suitable residence. Clouds in the northwest rolled in a darkening wave, a navy blanket of color trailing behind, promising rain in the near future.

Sheets billowed around Eren, forming a white labyrinth, swept along by a gentle current of air. He was alone, a nervous glance confirmed this. Eren tipped his head back. The chains binding his self-imposed restraints were absolved, and his senses opened to the flow of natural energy washing over him, immersing and familiarizing himself with his surroundings in an entirely different manner. His pupils adjusted to the undulating light, eyes gleaming an acidic teal. Wisps of wind collected fallen green leaves, brushing them along the soil, catching on grass in a crinkle of noise. It toyed with his shirt like a gentle caress. The area smelled of damp moss, aging rock, and an underlying hint unique to the region, tree sap and pine. Lavender faintly wafted off the clean laundry, sheet metal tubs and washboards ripe with froth.

Suddenly, everything became _too much_. An itch burned beneath the surface, clamoring to be released. Every thread of his outfit scraped like thorns against his bare skin, restricting him. He couldn’t handle this much stimuli at once. Now there was a brilliant edge of clarity to the world as if he regained use of an amputated limb. He removed his shirt and after, the remainder of his clothes followed, dropped in a rustle of fabric onto his boots.

Trust was a rare commodity. There are many misconceptions and myths concerning supernatural beings. Werewolves are a dying breed, often hunted for bounties, and among the most persecuted of the races.

Eren spent no little effort in appearing human to mollify the biased fear of others. Being “mortal” offered a cocoon of security. His act was well-practiced. A tight leash was kept on his true form. He was sworn to secrecy by his parents, worried their son may be lynched. They had groomed him well, providing him with necessary precautions, simple rules to abide by in public and detailed safeguards when at home. However, there would always be something abnormal about him- the way he moved when consciously keeping his gait loose like a normal teenager, his features, skin tone a shade darker than your typical pale villager, and his eyes, emerald green with streaks of blue mingled in the irises that absolutely burned. People often stared, regarding him as something to be wary of.

Of course, Armin’s family, Armin, and Mikasa were well aware. Other townsfolk attempted to make it their business, protesting Mikasa’s adoption. An addition of a bruxa to a local family went over about as well as anyone could imagine, considering, in comparison, vampires were treated with just as much hostility if not more than werewolves. The Jaegers garnered a substantial animosity that day. Rumors originated that Eren’s family were monster sympathizers or the Jaegers might be of supernatural origins themselves. However, Grisha Jaeger’s high societal standing as a doctor was enough to dispel many defamatory comments. Grisha was quick to subdue any malicious gossip, holding his position for ransom and nearly rescinding all medical services the town solely relied on. Needless to say, that ignited a huge backlash, quelling the more rebellious attitudes endangering their household. His father had been equipped with many fail-safes to deter unwarranted attention and evade an accidental revelation.

Other werewolves have always been highly perceptive throughout the generations, able to distinguish kin within their vicinity using scent alone. At one point, the clans met, creating a pact to never out one another, enacting a means to preserve their lineage and the werewolf population as a whole. They took to hiding like literal wolves in sheep’s clothing. Many werewolves blended into society well, appearing quite average. Some had to resort to illusionists or magic to cast a glamour hiding their ageless features. During training, Eren managed to seal his true self, even going so far as to battle century’s worth of instincts in relation to the lunar phases.

The Survey Corp has always been a beacon for the strange, attracting all manner of bizarre creatures that would otherwise be shunned and ridiculed. Maybe here, having been given a purpose, Eren could actually find _a_ _home_.

When was the last time he even allowed himself to let go?

A sigh parted Eren’s lips, heavy and reluctant. He was tired. His wolf self has been neglected for far too long. He slid to his knees before his mind caught up with the reality, either hand already rearranging and morphing into paws that touched the ground to catch him, the transformation spreading to his feet in tandem. Thick black nails uprooted the dirt, digging in to seek purchase, leaving behind neat grooves. Coarse fur sprouted in a fluid wave, rippling to cover his entire body in a medium length, double-layered coat and his skull widened, arranging into a long, sleek muzzle. The hairs were rust in color, traces of tan and mahogany, dark lines along his spine and lighter patterns along the ruff and stomach. He was fairly large with a substantial amount of bone, reaching four and a half feet tall at the shoulder.

Shaking out the tingling sensation from shifting between forms, Eren ecstatically swept the plume of his tail in a sideways arc, triangular ears perked forward. A golden key dangled against his post-sternum, braided chord fed through the diamond end opposite to the teeth. The family heirloom never left his possession.

He bounced along the rows with careless abandon as if he were a pup, dark colored tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. Unkempt grass on the front lawn reached mid-hock as he romped through it. The joy he felt was pure and unadulterated in its simplicity, something that he hadn’t experienced in far too long. Moments like these he wished would last forever- the absence of prejudice, chaos, human vs monster, only a quiet hum of wildlife.

That’s when an abrupt snap of a twig drew his gaze.

“What do we have here? A werewolf?”

Eren jumped at the lone figure; a man, short in stature, jet black hair styled in an undercut. An angular, deceptively youthful face held eyes that bore the weight of many burdens, weary, and bruised with dark circles. If Eren didn’t know better, he would believe they were the same age. His skin was pale, such a light shade as if not touched by enough sunlight. Resting a shoulder against the building in a nonchalant pose, he crossed his arms, having made himself comfortable like there was all the time in the world. He wore a simple v-neck shirt, long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, dark pants, leather skirt, and was wrapped in a harness constructed of the same material.

This was Captain Levi: humanity’s strongest soldier.

No sign of emotion was readily visible, kept carefully beneath a mask of indifference— just the slight interest of a predator watching its prey, _waiting_. Levi inclined his head, features completely blank, voicing his thoughts.

“We don’t see too many of your kind.” He continued, directed at Eren. “How you managed to hide this on top of being a fifteen meter tall, rage monster is beyond me. I’m impressed.”

He stood not more than a yard away, observing Eren impassively and made no move to close the distance.

Eren’s lungs seized, all the oxygen leaving him. _No, no, no_ — This wasn’t happening. He was _so careful_. Too naive, too foolish. _Stupid_ —

For the first time in since he was a child, he had been caught.

His chest heaved in mounting panic, unable to obtain enough air. He was absolutely fucked. What will they do with him? He hadn’t necessarily lied but did omit the truth and withheld information about himself. Would his actions be considered treasonous? Disobeying direct orders? Although he didn’t see this as relevant. How did the Survey Corps view werewolves? In that exact moment, he couldn’t recall in the slightest. When he was a pup, he had nearly been stoned. His thoughts began to spiral, racing towards the worst outcomes. The irrational fear he felt was as suffocating as it was paralyzing, cold dread gliding along his spine. Nausea churned his gut, settling like a rock that contorted his innards into a painful knot. His numb, trembling legs moved before he was even aware that he was backing away. Captain Levi’s mouth was forming words but Eren couldn’t register them, let alone string them along to create coherent sentences.

Blindfolded and chained to a post at his tribunal, he hadn’t actually seen the living legend of a man until this chance encounter. Eren had spoken out of turn, appalled by the outbursts in the courtroom, demanding their trust be placed in him only to be relentlessly disciplined. His body, remembering the inflicted pain, jerked in preparation for further abuse. He had identified the owners of many voices— Commander Erwin, a deep, level timbre of sound, Mikasa’s enraged growl, whispers from Armin- and once introduced, those belonging to a pastor named Nick, another commanding officer: Nile Dok, tone quiet, flat, certain words trailing into a slight hiss, the judge: Darius Zackly, an older, gravelly sort of authority. Captain Levi hadn’t spoken until he was addressed, sole of his boot grinding into Eren’s cheek. Did the Captain take pleasure in beating him? Would he suffer further mistreatment here? He knew Levi’s rumored tolerance for disobedience or challenging authority was beyond low. On what scale of severity did this particular offense fall?

Phantom pangs lingered where his teeth were knocked out, ribs fractured, lung punctured, and nose shattered, blood gushing down his face in rivulets. The grievous injuries were nothing a regular human would’ve survived. Bright, searing agony, brutal in the efficient manner it was delivered, became a scar in his memory that was torn open again. He understood the pain was a tactical ploy, that it was necessary gambit based on his titan healing abilities to instill obedience, fear, and respect among military colleagues. He _truly did_ — They weren’t going to let go of him willingly. Erwin and Hanji met with him afterward to reassure and dissuade any anxiety he might have developed as result. He should be over it. His accelerated healing had taken care of any visible trauma, even repairing his teeth by replacing the missing set. Everything was _fine_.

 _Except it isn’t_ , his inner voice replied.

Both ears flattened against his head, a low, pitiful whine escaping his throat. Paranoia snuck in, skimming along the edges of his fleeting thoughts. His consciousness had long since shut down, leaving a single, clear command: _run_.

“ _Hey_ —“

Eren bolted, stumbling in a tangle of wobbly legs, nearly sending him sprawling to eat a face full of dirt. Distantly, he heard Levi curse.

It couldn’t have been more than a moment later before Levi was on him, becoming a blur of movement as he grabbed scruff in his left hand, opposite arm reaching around the boy’s neck to cage him, and yanked. Firmly planting one foot between Eren’s front legs, Levi’s other leg was positioned near his hind quarters, stopping the wolf’s full-blown run, mid-stride. The heels of his boots scraped as he was partially drug but ultimately held his ground. He hauled Eren back with his strength alone, muscles straining as he twisted, wrestling a beast twice his size into the air.

Paws swept out from underneath him, Eren landed hard on his side, breath knocked from his body with a panicked scream akin to a cornered animal. A jolt of pain snapped through him. The world spun, vision tilting and disoriented after being uprooted in such a volatile manner. His heartbeat rocketed with a surge of emotions, adrenalin and hysteria coursing in his veins. There was only the urge to move and to get out- to dislodge himself, drive this threat away _now_. Towards where, his mind could not fathom, let alone articulate what it needed. There was _no time_ —

A weight came crashing onto him just as he hit the grass, and Eren thrashed, scrabbling to right himself.

“ _Brat_! Get a hold of yourself!” Levi yelled, using his entire body to his advantage, practically laying across Eren. The hand not buried in neck fur, lashed out, quick, mimicking a strike of a snake to grab at flailing limbs.

It was the wrong course of action. All of this, Levi saw in a blink of a second and he was unable to react accordingly. Eren was faster. The werewolf lunged for anything within reach, teeth on display and savagely clamped onto Levi’s forearm, sinking into muscle, blood welling in the punctures.

The pain didn’t hit Levi immediately, only the sensation of warmth streaking down his skin, mixing with wet saliva. Bones grinded against each other, creaking under the pressure applied. He leaned into the bite, minimizing the damage, unable to suppress a wince when Eren’s jaw tightened in a snarl despite already having a mouthful. Narrowed to slits, hard grey eyes connected with Eren’s teal and searched for something to make sense of the situation. Eren met his gaze head on, defensive, too far gone to throw up any shields.

“ _Captain?_ ”

A voice, distinctly female, cut the thick air between them, apprehension woven into each syllable. Petra emerged from the shroud of linen, culling her strawberry blonde hair tussled by the wind. Medium length elven ears, rounded at the tips, a characteristic of wood elves, lifted in unison with her eyebrows. There was a telling ‘ _shink_ ’ of unsheathed metal and as suddenly as she appeared, an ornate, curved set of daggers were in both hands, hidden on her person as an alternative since her gear was not readily available. Protectiveness flared inside of her, warring with rising alarm.

“Are you alright? What is going on?”

She took a step into his line of vision, light on her feet. The pressured response she received caused her to stop abruptly, more than a few yards away.

Levi had shifted slightly after detecting his subordinate was near. His back was to Petra, hunched over, obscuring Eren’s head from sight.

“Stand down, Petra. Everything is under control here.”

At the perceived danger, her kind nature disappeared. Honey gold eyes flit from the conspicuous splatter of red droplets to the furry midsection Levi is propped against. Her face scrunched in distaste. She did nothing to soften the look.

“Then why do I smell blood?”

When no answer is forthcoming to confirm or deny her suspicions, Petra jumped straight into interrogating her squad leader. A quick read of her body language showed the tension in her hair-trigger response, prepared to attack at a pin-drop as she yelled down Levi, ready to defend him to the death, even if it were from his own decisions. The way she spoke held no room for bargaining.

“Are you _injured_ , Captain? Please, step away.”

“Petra—“, Levi snapped in warning.

Taking stock of the scenery, her lips thinned into a scowl, knuckles white on the daggers’ hilt.

“What is that _beast_? Was Eren attacked?” The flurry of questions continued, growing bolder and increasingly frantic. “Was he taken? Is the base in danger?”

Levi glanced back, fixing her with the full intensity of his piercing stare.

“I said calm down, Petra. Back off and rejoin the others.” He said implacably.

Any lesser person would’ve caved under such a display of intimidation. Petra balked but stood her ground in face of it, urged on by her strong sense of devotion.

“Captain! Please, answer me.” she demanded stubbornly. Petra scrutinized him from a distance, and implored with her eyes: _let me help_. Her instincts were on point, telling her everything was wrong and she would not abandon him without good reason. He exhaled, an almost inaudible wisp of breath.

“That was an order, Petra. I will not argue on this. Trust my judgment as your superior officer and I will explain later.”

Clenching her teeth so hard she may break them, frustration curled in Petra’s gut and she hesitated, battling against herself. After a thick bout of silence, punctuated by awkward glaring and a hefty dose of nonverbal arguments from both parties involved, she nodded tersely, conceding. Staying true to her promise, Petra vacated the premises as quietly as she arrived, leaving little trace in her wake beyond the stirring of dust. Levi watched her retreat, hair swinging as she took off at a stiff march. She was loyal to a fault.

To his credit, Eren remained motionless throughout the entire ordeal, playing the part of dead animal. A small tremor shook him, from resisting or being still for so long, Levi was not able to tell. He could sense the fear radiating off of him and nearly felt the heart beneath him squeeze in blind panic once more.

Eren’s grip on his forearm significantly loosened during Petra’s exchange and Levi shifted experimentally to calculate the strength backing the hold.

“Jaeger, are you done sampling me. I would like my arm back and whole if you could manage it.” Levi said, half a question and a bit moody. He was known for being laconic, dour, vulgar, a force to be reckoned with in and out of the field, among other things. However, not everyone realized he possessed the patience of a _goddamn saint_.

Mortification dawned in Eren’s eyes, clouding them with remnants of shame. Prying his jaw apart, he drew away in a twitch of movement as if burned. He didn’t take his chances to try and flee a second time. Instead, he remained stock still, averting his gaze, doing the best impersonation of a statue.

“Good.”

Levi studied the injuries thoughtfully. With regained control of his limb, he wiggled all five fingers and tested the flexion and rotation to determine his arm’s current limitations. The bite itself spanned nearly the entire length of his forearm, centered directly in the middle. Flesh pulled tight during his assessment, jarring the tender punctures. The site began to throb, reawakened by the tactile stimuli and muscle was exposed, appearing more gruesome than it actually was. It would need to be wrapped, if not stitched.

Not more than a minute later, Levi turned to look at Eren.

“Are you all right now?”

Silence.

Eren’s line of sight continued to stay locked on an unknown target, not budging. Levi could see the gears turning in his head, shuttered behind an empty gaze, already berating himself.

“What, you help yourself to my body and now you’re playing coy? Am I a fucking delicious entrée?”

That startled a snort out of Eren, his eyes snapping to Levi like he couldn’t believe what just left his Captain’s mouth.

“Come here.”

Ignoring the persistent, throbbing pain that flared in protest to any sort of movement, Levi sincerely hoped his next action wouldn’t earn him a repeat performance of the earlier meltdown. His hand released tufts of fur he was still clutching and slid upward, firmly grasping the base of Eren’s skull. The opposite reached toward Eren, non-threatening, making contact with his snout in a light touch of finger tips. He was giving Eren every opportunity to reject him.

Eren went rigid, whiskers involuntarily twitching on his lip, brushing Levi’s knuckles. His nostrils flared. There was a perfume of blood between them, smeared on Levi’s skin, and metallic on Eren’s tongue, becoming heavy and unpleasant like lead. When his throat bobbed in a scratchy, rough swallow, he had to force it past the lump that formed there. What had he done? Against a high ranking officer none the less. At once, Eren was wracked with immense guilt.

“Shhhh, I’ve got you. _Relax_.”

Levi was seated where he had landed during their struggle, one leg curled underneath him, the other stretched alongside him. He guided the large wolf head, gone pliant from shock, to rest in his lap, chin pillowed by his thighs.

“Breathe with me.” Levi commanded, tone mild.

It hadn’t occurred to Eren that he just went from hyperventilating to holding his breath entirely, suddenly dizzy from the shift in oxygen intake. His eyes watered. He forced himself to relax, choking as he attempted to slow his breathing to match the pace of Levi’s. He felt overwhelmed by the power hidden in the bones of this fragile human. A reminder of that strength was coiled in the legs below him and arm resting near his shoulder, braced for another counterattack if necessary. Levi had taken him down with no reservations. Swift and precise. How could someone be so strong?

“Don’t rush. Just listen and focus. I’m right here.” said Levi, coaxing him into a rhythm. His voice remained level and he demonstrated with a long exhale. The hand belonging to his injured arm absently combed fingers through fur. Each stroke was sluggish, leaving mats of blood that were simultaneously replaced and brushed out afterward.

Eren could cry at the surreal feeling of hands gently threading through his coat. It was something he never expected from strangers. He didn’t know whether to give in to the comfort he desperately sought or to violently recoil. When was the last time he was held like this? Not since the wall was breached. How is this man so violent one moment then practically hugging him the next? A breath shivered out of him, bordering on a whine.

“You frighten easily.” Levi remarked, broaching the silence. He continued to monitor Eren’s breathing, other palm having moved to rest on the rise and fall of ribs. “I know my face scares people but _damn_. That was rather severe.”

There was a pause as he considered his words.

“Do you normally react this way to vampires? Or am I special?”

Eren pushed his head up, still draped across Levi’s lap, finally noticing how close he actually was. Maybe he should get up. Levi hadn’t drew away at the shock aimed toward him.

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

A snort came from Eren in response, between panting, and he shook his head. Levi hesitated to allow the motion before resuming his petting.

His mind was jumbled. He could not distinctly remember any revelation that humanity’s strongest was of supernatural origin. No doubt, that would make headlines! Perhaps, it could’ve been for safety or to allow the humans a chance to form their own speculations. When the Survey Corps was mentioned, Captain Levi automatically came to mind. People knew of Erwin but they stared at Levi the longest. He was a symbol, an ideal. Eren could only guess how badly the public would react to being misled, especially with dwindling recruitment numbers and successful expeditions. People needed something to latch onto in times of despair and Captain Levi filled that role: humanity’s hope.

He tilted is head in confusion, nose wrinkling. Any information and myth about vampires briefly came to him. The Captain didn’t smell of death. Unless his ears were mistaken, Eren also clearly heard the thrum of a pulse. Then again, Mikasa isn’t an average vampire either. There was hardly any information to base his speculations on.

Taking Eren’s lackluster response as a need for proof, Levi’s lips peeled back to expose fangs. Unintentionally slid out, white canines were stark contrast in the cavern of his mouth, much like a viper as he wrestled against the discomfort in his arm. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clack of teeth.

“It was never officially announced after I was conscripted.”

He didn’t elaborate further and Eren searched his expression for a telltale sign of why Levi trusted him with this secret. _‘Why me?’_ his eyes questioned, uncomprehending at first. There had to be a reason why it was kept hidden for so long. What greater reason did he have to trust a shifter freak with a trauma history? For Levi to out himself now meant Eren was an even greater liability. Also, did he say ‘ _conscripted’_?

“Our kind are few and far between. We both face scrutiny of those we serve and are in a precarious position.” Levi said nonchalantly. “Only a select few know.”

There was a pause.

“You could report me if you’d like. I wouldn’t stop you.” He seemed amused, curious for Eren’s answer.

The choice was clear for Eren. He shook his head again, a small woof of affirmation tacked onto the end. There was something achingly familiar in the situation they shared.

“The squad will no doubt have questions about you. But it’s not my place to tell.”

It went unspoken that he was under no obligation to force Eren into spilling his secret and to take things at his own pace. For that, Eren was thankful. He didn’t want to have a second panic attack in a short span, thank you very much.

“I chose them for their judgment and loyalty. Only you can decide whether to believe in their experience.”

Dazed, Eren caught jilted movement in the corner of his vision and at once he felt enormously guilty again. Levi was strong. Eren knew this, especially considering all the feats he managed. But here he was, forearm ripped up and leaking gore, pretending as if he felt nothing. He still appeared neutral as if discussing something mundane like the weather.

“What are you—“

Turning his head, he whined and nudged Levi’s arm with his nose, cold and wet. Whether he was brave or foolish, he didn’t know- his tongue swiped across the deepest laceration, laving at the dried flecks of blood. Still shaking from the worst attack he’d had in ages, his gaze was afraid but defiant, almost as if he expected to be smacked away.

Levi made a face and winced. “Please tell me this is sanitary.” he complained mostly to himself, suspicious as if any help offered to him was a foreign concept.

Eren gave the wound another few long, punishing licks, covering the last traces then drew back to study his work. There was a sharp intake of breath, hissing through Levi’s teeth- the skin began to knit together, healing process boosted marginally. Fibers grew where chunks had been removed, nerve endings flaring with warmth and tingling pain. Were-beast saliva acted as a balm and many alchemists sought parts of their species for ingredients toward medications, potions, or curses. It was the least he could do for being such a pain in the ass.

It was gone as quickly as it began but the pain was stabbing, _raw_ , like he was enduring a below-the elbow amputation from a dulled scalpel. That had been enough to punch the air out of him, taking a moment to simply catch his breath through it.

“Huh, would you look at that?” Levi said finally, going through the motions of re-inspecting his arm, twisting, and turning. Not a single trace or scar was left behind, just fresh, pink skin. Cracked trails of blood were still tattooed on him, a nasty reminder- it was manageable, nothing a well-deserved bath wouldn’t cure.

A touch of ice made him stiffen. Eren gently nosed his bicep and elbow, checking for further injuries, worry, and concern evident like he might’ve overlooked something.

“Quit mothering me, you impulsive little shit. I would’ve been fine given time.” scolded Levi.

Eren feigned a look of remorse, realizing his behavior was beyond inappropriate but remained doubtful about the declaration. He answered with another yip, saying as much.

Levi snorted. “Don’t sass me.” His hand found its way back to Eren’s head, ruffling the fur. Fingers started to scratch lightly behind one ear. “As I was saying before you assaulted your commanding officer, without permission, _a second time_ …”

He flinched in horror, wheezing out unsteadily but Levi didn’t comment. Pieces of the earlier conversation were salvaged and he continued where it left off, directed to familiar waters once more. Eren had to admit, despite his self-proclaimed lack of people skills, Captain Levi had managed to steer their topics in a manner that allowed him an opportunity to breathe, instructing him in coping mechanisms that have worked, or simply going quiet at times when Eren was too overwhelmed. Second by second, in slow degrees, he started to come back to himself- he felt grateful, soothed, light-headed, upset, embarrassed,  _protected_. His last fleeting thought was _‘for someone that was supposedly so cold and callous, his hands are surprisingly gentle’._


	3. Man by Man Heads to His Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a bit lengthy as there were a few things involving lore I wanted to address. There are elements of the Witcher and Elder Scrolls universes incorporated, among other references but this story for the most part follows canonical events with some slight alterations. I also want to avoid typical werewolf and vampire tropes in many fandoms. Feedback is always loved!

* * *

 

 **“What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying.”**  
― Albert Camus

 

It was an understatement to say Captain Levi’s standards for cleanliness were above that of an ordinary person. Compared to regular individuals in the legion, it was as if watching the habits of livestock. But Eren, if not for his sheer stubbornness, was determined to try his damnest at everything. The same went for menial tasks. He didn’t question it. He was easily able to integrate the aspects into his daily routine and was a quick study in other areas. This seemed to appease the squad, especially during training sessions were he was frequently laid out, as he didn’t hold any other exceptional qualities. He wasn’t the athlete Mikasa or Reiner were, or a particularly good scholar with intellect rivaling that of Armin or Krista. Hell, he wasn’t even on par to become a decent soldier, barely scraping by in the top five of his graduating class due to his unusually skilled hand to hand combat. Yet, he still threw all he had into it until every quarter, nook, cranny, or space where living beings could inhabit had been scraped clean of mold, mildew, and years of grime. Giving up wasn’t in his vocabulary.

On one of these designated chore days, instead of doing maintenance cleaning, Eren found himself in the kitchen with Petra and Eld. Both wood elves dutifully took up stations at either end of the counters, one peeling potatoes over a matching set of large glass bowls, the other chopping vegetables into diced pieces on a marble cutting board. Cast iron pots and pans littered the lit stove tops.

Unlike Petra, Eren found Eld Jinn to be a man of little words. Whereas Petra often aimed to fill the void, once Eld did speak, it was straightforward and with meaning. It was clear how easily he fell into the role of Levi’s second in command from his firm leadership style to weighing decisions with no light consequence. This morning wasn’t any different. Eld had his hair tied back in a blonde bun, allowing Petra to chatter on as she pleased, commenting when necessary in a soft, encouraging voice.

Nearly a week had passed since his transport here. Hanji, an eccentric high-elf and sorceress joined their ranks the day after, accompanied by her squad and dwarf assistant Moblit Berner. She had started her research on Eren but over the past two days had been preoccupied. New recruits were scheduled to arrive at noon, led by Erwin’s second in command: Mike Zacharias, an odd wood elf that found strange satisfaction in sniffing those around him. Hanji had told him it was harmless, that she wasn’t one to judge the taste of others— however, Eren couldn’t help his suspicions, unsettled that a being not of werefolk origins could have such a perceptive sense.

“Eren, what are you making? It smells fantastic.” Petra gushed, setting aside the white onions to dab her tearing eyes on a clean handkerchief. Eld spared them a glance, depositing a cleanly shaven potato into the water bowl to crisp in company of its friends.

“Dutch baby pancakes. It was my mother’s recipe,” said Eren, poking a metal spatula along the skillet’s edges to see if they were browning. A pile was started on platters beside him.

“Where did you manage to find the flour?”

“There are shelves of it in the storage pantry which hadn’t expired and I collected eggs from the chickens Hanji delivered after feeding them and cleaning their pen this morning. I picked an assortment of berries for the glaze while I was out. A garden was started nearby but is overgrown by weeds.” Replacing his utensil with a whisk laying on the counter, Eren began attending to the sauce pan.

“Titan by day, chef by night. How scandalous! Who knew you were this talented? We should have made use of your latent abilities sooner.” She dried her hands on another dish rag then switched to peppers next, deftly wielding a knife like she did her blades. It presented a frightening picture as she gutted her victim, juice dying her fingers red. “If it weren’t for the bland servings of the Corps chef or the survival rations, we’d surely be long dead from starvation. We are never treated to anything _this_ fancy.”

“It’s nothing special. Just kielbasa, pepper, onions, and potato hash, some seasoning, and Dutch babies. There are also rolls made from scratch,” Eren shrugged. He doubted that his food was actually praise-worthy but he had wanted to be of use. The squad finally harbored enough confidence that he wouldn’t accidentally slice himself and transform.

“That’s amazing! Don’t sell yourself short, Eren! This is no small feat and for a platoon of incoming soldiers none the less! There is a reason I haven’t been assigned kitchen duty unless it’s simple sandwiches,” she cheerfully continued as if lecturing him on a foreign concept. “Last time, a pot of noodles caught fire so I had been banned ever since.”

Eren looked downright appalled at her concession. How could someone burn pasta?

“Eld can only make side dishes.” she said, retrieving another pepper.

The man of topic nodded in agreement but didn’t contribute any further or refute her claim.

“Oluo always bites his tongue and nearly bleeds into the food. You can imagine how well that went over,” she scoffed. Eren scowled at the intrusive mental image, continuing to stir. “Gunther does the hunting. He also assists with any prep work. However, our meals mainly consist of watered down soups or game meat and rice. Since the chef has to make big portions the standard menu is largely quick, filling, and easy. Very little flavor involved. No culinary masterpieces either as you can imagine.”

“Food is a necessity, not a luxury. Consider yourself lucky to even have a full plate when others cannot afford or have the same opportunity,” chimed Eld, nearing the end of his potato mountain.

Eren looked thoughtful at the rather barren spice rack. He knew elaborate and actual _good meals_ were hard to come by in the military life but having this confirmed was another thing entirely. Did that mean Captain Levi didn’t often indulge in these rare occasions with their superior officers? Do vampires require regular food beyond blood? Maybe he should avoid garlic just in case.

“I’m not complaining! Beggars can’t be choosers,” Petra laughed, gentle and bright. A grin teased her lips, conveying her eagerness. “Can you blame me, though? Sweets are a rare commodity. Don’t tell me you aren’t even a little excited, Eld?”

He smiled slightly to himself and that was enough of an answer.

“Let’s set a plate aside for the Captain. Maybe we can bribe him to join us? He never eats as he should and we can’t have him withering away.” She continued, oblivious to Eren’s plight.

Storing this seed of information for later use, Eren moved to dump the finely chopped onions into an empty pan and started caramelizing them with renewed vigor.

 

 

 

Although very few residents dwelled in the castle, this was still the most activity it has seen in the past decade. Eren was in the dining hall portioning out servings when weary travelers began to pour through the entrance. Petra and Eld fussed over the arrangements a few rows down, helping dole out refreshments.

One particular individual, which often can be heard at a great distance before being seen, was unsurprisingly the first to enter. An elf wearing thick, square rimmed glasses led a diverse group, the fourth division of the Survey Corps, supernatural and human- a dark elf, grey-skinned orc, trio of humans, even a halfling. That woman is Hanji Zoe. She had a very expressive, open face, and was a rather tall individual. Her auburn hair was tied in a loose, unkempt ponytail, long bangs parted to either side. Small ears, sharply pointed, peeked through the shaggy edges, a telltale trait of high-elves. At her left was her assistant, Moblit Berner, a dwarf, atypically taller than his average folk, though not quite the height of his human counterparts. He lacked the usual beard of most distinguished males, perhaps considered a hazard when deploying maneuver equipment, and favored wearing his blonde-brown hair cropped short, parted neatly down the middle instead of braided into dreads. His ears were similar in nature to elves, the points at the tip more rounded and subtle than high elves but not the length of their woodland cousins.

To the right of the Hanji, Eren could only assume, was Mike Zacharias- he was tall, _very tall_ , even towering a good four inches over Commander Erwin who by all means was _a big man_ as well. Blonde hair, blue eyes, well-built, the man made an imposing sight next to marginally smaller members of the legion, stern expression warding off any unwarranted interruptions.

Eren raised his head, pausing momentarily to search numeral faces for any semblance of his friends left at Trost.

The large gathering hadn’t seen Eren yet, drifting in around him to claim seats which he used to his advantage. Voices murmured, warping into background noise that carried into the open area. He took the time to simply observe the throng of people flooding in- his expectations were low but his heart still ached, a sliver of hope growing with each beat.

A dryad girl was the first to enter, golden eyes wide as saucers and face a grimace of determination, gaze snapping every which way like a predator. Strapped across her chest and slung over her back were a bow and quiver filled with arrows. Visible in areas uncovered by gear, her skin is a light emerald shade, reddish brown hair tied up in a high ponytail.

Trailing after, a slim, male goat faun, curled horns on either side of his bald head, loudly exclaimed.

“Sasha, slow down. Leave some food for the rest of us.”

“Shut up, Connie! It’s survival of the fittest!” she snapped.

“You mean: _fattest_?”

“Glad to see _someone’s_ appetite isn’t ruined by the corpse enclosure outside,” said a moderate sized boy. It was Jean _fucking_ Kirstein, messy light blonde hair styled in an undercut, different than the Captain’s. There is a lone ivory, spiral horn protruding from his forehead and cream colored horse ears swiveled to the side, listening. A long, thin tail of the same pigment, white tuft of hair at the end, lashed at the floor, coinciding with his agitation.

_Wasn’t that horse face only interested in joining the King’s Guard?_

“I’m not sure there is anything that _could_ curb Sasha’s appetite, Jean.” Reiner said with a snort of laughter. Reiner Braun was a pale green orc, broad and muscular, his ashen blonde hair seemingly out of place with the green tint of his skin. Bertolt Hoover, a tall, slender, dark-haired elven man, didn’t leave Reiner’s side, quietly, almost meekly staying in his shadow as if he was nervous to be away from his childhood friend longer than a second would allow.

That’s when he saw them: Armin and Mikasa, lingering toward the back, the latter inspecting his surroundings while Mikasa trudged along, frowning and stone-faced. Like an eerie third sense, she happened to turn her gaze in his direction and the change was as instantaneous as it was visible.

“ _Eren!_ ” Mikasa cried, shoving past the bodies blocking her path to the only thing in her life that mattered. It didn’t take more than two long strides before Eren gathered Mikasa and Armin into his arms, both friends burying their faces on either side of his neck as they gripped him back hard, crushing him to them in a welcoming embrace. Her face was overcome with emotion and Eren couldn’t help but give an unbidden, watery smile for his sister and best friend he believed long gone.

Petra and Eld, joined by Hanji, Moblit, and Mike, halted on the other side of the dining hall to observe the reunion, glancing between themselves.

“I’m here, I’m okay—“

“Eren, we were so worried!” cried Armin.

“Are you both crazy? Why did you still join—“ Eren started with confusion but the relief in his tone won in the end.

“Now you’re just insulting our intelligence and loyalty to imply that we’d abandon you.” Armin scolded as he drew away.

“Did that _midget fuck_ hurt you any further? Do I have to kill some bitches?” threatened Mikasa as she gently pried them apart and held Eren back at arm’s length to give him a serious once over.

“Mikasa, _no_ —“ Eren spluttered, afraid the Captain would materialize out of the shadows and strike her down where she stood for such blasphemy. He batted her hands away.

“I’m not afraid of him.” she muttered defiantly, voice yielding a promise of violence. “They _will not_ separate us again. I will kill _everyone_ before I allow any harm to come to you.”

“Wow, _scary_. Tell us how you _really feel_ ,” joked Reiner, the first one bold enough to approach. “Glad to know we’re all expendable.”

“Yo, Eren!” said Connie enthusiastically only to be pushed aside.

“I’m not sure whether you are suicidal or just damn lucky, Jaeger,” scoffed Jean, arms crossed as he stood at his full height in front of Eren. Mikasa, to the side, glowered at him in a silent challenge.

“Why are you here, _Jean_? The military police not have enough hay?” said Eren with so much distaste it constricted his expression.

“Really? It hasn’t even been _five minutes_.” Ymir, a half-elf, sighed, arm slung around Krista’s shoulders to steer her and keep her close.

“Not everyone can go out in a blaze of glory. It’s what Marco would’ve wanted,” was Jean’s only response, quiet yet piercing with the hidden accusation.

“ _That’s_ —“ argued Eren.

_What? Not fair? Not your fault? What you deserved? Did you honestly expect any better? A warm welcome for the freak?_

Sasha deflected, sounding haggard. She hated fighting in any form and was the best at reading situations, diffusing any underlying tension.

“Uh, hey, _everyone_ … Eren, great having you back and all. No hatin’ here.” Sasha amended to pacify Mikasa. “But do you know what’s even better? All this _delicious, **wonderful** food_ , sitting here, waiting for us. And it’s not eating itself. By golly, what a crime! I’m just _gonna_ -“ she said, having already snuck by. She held not a single ounce of shame as she vaulted onto the closest bench, reaching for the bread.

Cutlery and dishware rattled as it became a free-for all. Eren could not help but think this was _home_.

 

 

 

The meal was an interesting affair, almost surreal in the familiarity and return to normalcy it leant. There were constants Eren noticed; Sasha and Connie bickering, wholeheartedly trying and failing to reign in her ravenous appetite, Mikasa unabashedly staring at him like he were a ghost and this was too good to be true, Armin filling in the gaps since he was “enlisted”, an ebb and flow of hushed discussions between peers. He had been asked about his abilities. Of course, all of them were curious. He had uncomfortably gave them minimal information.

Eren’s mind wandered throughout the meal. Since everyone settled in, Eren received compliments on his cooking and spirits were high. He should feel relieved how easy it was to be absorbed back into his group of friends. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice the absence of a few commanding officers, namely Levi. Did he not like to partake in meals with others? Or was it too much to keep up a ruse, using the excuse that he dines in private? He had just made up his mind to set aside a plate when Mike and Nanaba announced the call to gather in preparation to leave.

Mikasa lingered, conflicted as if willing to risk insubordination for a few more minutes, but with a small shake of his head, Eren waved everyone off. He had just rose from his seat, gathering dishes when Hanji intercepted him, literally dragging him from his task. She deposited a wrapped metal plate in his arms, fork, spoon, napkin on top, then firmly grabbed his elbow, other hand at his back, manhandling him. Eren blinked down at the meal occupying his hands like he couldn’t believe how it had actually got there.

“Uh, _what_ —?”

“Eren, come with me! There’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” exclaimed Hanji at a volume he was sure the entire compound heard.

Helplessly, he glanced to Levi’s squad with a wince, feeling as if he were abandoning them. Petra was the only one that met his eye, already in the midst of cleanup, the others either immersed in banter or quietly tending to their leftovers. She nodded her assent, a tiny smile quirking her lips before she turned, shouting at Oluo. A cuff was given to the back of his head after he yelled something about “cleaning up after ungrateful brats” and “lazy greenhorns”.

They rounded the corner to another long corridor before Hanji released him. She moved past where he had stopped and glanced back with a raised eyebrow in askance to why he wasn’t following.

“There’s something I need you to do before the next experiment, Eren,” she continued without any prompting as Eren shuffled along beside her.

“Of course, Squad Leader Hanji,” said Eren amicably. He enjoyed her company and he didn’t mind being helpful.

To this, Hanji laughed, loud and sharp. The clap of sound reverberated against the stone walls, amplifying it in the empty corridor. “Oh, I knew I liked you after we spent the entire night bonding over titans! No formalities, just Hanji, please.” She grinned eagerly but it wasn’t very reassuring, a slightly manic edge to it. Had she slept within the last twenty-four hours?

“Alright then, Hanji, should I be worried?” joked Eren.

“You should always be concerned. It’s me we’re talking about,” Hanji replied. “But your task today is rather tame by even my standards.”

Eren snorted but didn’t comment, allowing time for Hanji to speak again.

“I left a roster of books for you to study in the library. You’ll probably be there for a while so I packed you dinner,” she said, motioning to his plate with a grandiose “behold” gesture.

“But, I made this.”

Hanji gasped, shying backwards in an overly dramatic fashion, fingers in front of her open mouth and all. “Details, _details_ , Eren! Are you going to waste perfectly good leftovers I smuggled on your behalf? Especially with the low levels of meat rations? How shameful.”

“Alright, no need to guilt trip me,” said Eren, rolling his eyes.

“Why, is it working?” speculated Hanji, finger pressed to her chin. “ _Anyway_ , nothing physically taxing is planned for today. Only mental stimulation. A sound mind, means a sound body.”

“What will I be researching?” inquired Eren with a tilt of his head.

“Where’s your sense of adventure? If I tell you then it wouldn’t be a surprise! Half the fun is figuring it out,” cheerfully said Hanji. She then slapped Eren on the back hard enough to make him stumble, waving over her shoulder as she trotted ahead. Eren winced, shifting the plate so he didn’t almost drop it. That woman really didn’t know her own strength. “See you later, Eren! I’ll be in the lab testing samples with Moblit. Don’t hesitate to find me if you need anything.”

There wasn’t a chance for Eren to conduct a proper farewell or respectful salutre as Hanji already escaped down another hall, conveniently disappearing.

_What the hell?_

Doing a double take, Eren took in his whereabouts, a perturbed frown settling on his face. A glossy, engraved plaque that read “library” was nailed next to carved, wooden double doors.

How did he not notice? Had Hanji asserted her influence over him? It was a passive ability many sorceresses possessed yet he still felt no different than earlier. Or was he so lonely, wanting the decency to be treated like a _normal person_ for once, he lost track of his awareness?

He mentally berated himself for the lax cognizance paid toward his surroundings; a mistake which he was taught never to take lightly. If this weren’t headquarters, any multitude of things could’ve happened.

But since he was already here, might as well get to it. Balancing the food on one hand, he grasped the bronze handle and used his weight to open the heavy door.

The plain ceiling was arched high, supported by buttresses but the room itself was a single floor. Strategically placed lanterns hung down on thick chains, constructed of metal and glass. Mounted lanterns of a similar style illuminated each section and two reading nooks, except where a pair of windows were situated on outer side of the room near a sturdy, four person table. Tops of shelves reached the edges where beams began and sleek wood panels with diamond mesh covered the small amount of wall below where the ceiling started to curve. Four rows of bookcases extended from either side, an intricately designed, carpeted aisle runner separating the two columns, leading to a back area filled with built-in shelves, even the corners from what Eren could see. A ladder on wheels was attached to a track above those particular units and a huge, gothic window, framed by gold-embroidered curtains, draping against the ground, was centered at the end, directly in line with the runner. Soft light filtered through panels of matching black latticework, a large, intricate circular design at the top. It made the chamber appear warm and inviting, glowing amidst the scent of bound leather, cloth, and aging paper.

Bypassing the podium near the front, Eren spared a glance at the surface for notes bearing his name, finding none. Continuing his search lead him to the table next which yielded a similar result. He then moved to inspect the literature, marveling at the orderly collection.

The library contained old magic. He could sense faint traces woven into the room- a tidying, alphabetizing, and self-sustaining spell to reduce clutter and dust. Possibly something to prevent the books from aging. Nothing malicious. Only a gentle, comforting presence that added to the serenity.

However, the last thing he expected to find was Levi occupying one of the hideaways.

And either he hasn’t noticed Eren yet or was studiously ignoring him.

Lounging in a cushioned seat, his left elbow was propped on the arm rest, chin cradled in his palm. His right leg was outstretched, heel propped up on a round ottoman while his other ankle was hooked over the knee, a hefty book spread open in his lap. The fingers of his unoccupied hand trailed along each passage while he read, simultaneously marking his place and keeping the book from moving. A small stack of selected material, ranging in thickness, was gathered near the furniture’s front leg.

The sun cast shapes of light on the closest rows, elongated when it touched the ground, washing over his boots. Shadows of the alcove drew sharp edges along his features.

“Captain?” Eren stood tentatively, worried that he was intruding on something fragile he didn’t want to break.

Levi sighed, redirecting his concentration. He straightened his shoulders, lifting his hardened gaze to Eren.

“It’s rude to stare. Have a seat or leave,” said Levi bluntly. “God knows someone was bound to interrupt me eventually. There’s no scrap of privacy in this damn place.”

Eren’s heart skipped a beat and he shifted under the glare directed at him. He hesitated, seeming conflicted. Wasn’t he supposed to be studying? Would it be inappropriate to panic and bolt back out the door? “Sir?”

Something in Eren’s voice must’ve conveyed his indecision because Levi plucked a braided string from his thigh, placing it directly in the middle crease of either page then snapped the book shut.

“I won’t repeat myself,” replied Levi with an air of finality, half-implying that Eren should quit acting stupid.

Eren trudged forward, jaw clenched, and obediently slid into the empty chair directly across from Levi. Woodenly at first, plate clutched in his lap, then eased into a more comfortable arrangement once a moment passed, watching Levi tuck the book beside him. Briefly, curiosity sparked at his superior’s taste in literature.

“Sir, could I ask you something?” ventured Eren, question escaping him.

“Yes, vampires shit,” was Levi’s dry answer, complete with a stony-face.

It was so unexpected, Eren gave a startled laugh.

“Not what I was going for but _alright_.”

Levi gave a dismissive shrug and if Eren looked close enough he could swear that his Captain was almost amused.

“Are you hungry, sir? I made lunch for everyone and was given extras. But…” He paused, fingering the wrapping. Coming to terms with whatever he was debating, he peeled it back, rolling the utensils in the napkin. The savory smell of salt hit Levi at once. “It doesn’t contain blood. Well, _human blood_ ,” he added, feeling guilt for his lack of consideration.

Levi grimaced, sweeping his eyes over the offering as if Eren held a week-old dead animal.

“What?” Eren was confused by the suspicion directed at him then immediately gave an embarrassed, helpless shout. “There isn’t _titan blood_ either!”

“Is that so? You cooked this,” Levi phrased in consideration.

“Ah, yes… The recipes have been in our family for a few generations. My mother enjoyed baking, even before marrying my father, and she always let me help,” Eren said like he doubted it was anything special. “Petra and Eld were with me in the kitchen, though, so the credit isn’t all mine,” he admitted, wondering if he’d done something foolish again.

Unexpectedly, Levi retracted his legs from where they had been propped and sat forward, taking the plate. It was placed on the ottoman between them, wrapping set aside, neatly folded for reuse. A cluster of potatoes, onions, and round sausage disks were speared on the metal prongs, Levi twirling his fork in mock examination.

“Higher vampires don’t require blood to survive. Unlike our lesser kin,” he said conversationally, sliding the pieces in his mouth.

Eren stared for maybe a moment too long, half-debating if he should give Levi the privacy he wanted to eat. It threw him for a loop. Here Levi was _actually_ speaking to him and eating _normal food_.

Removing the utensil as he chewed, he lightly waved it in Eren’s direction. “Blood is considered more or less like a fine wine. Consumption can lead to intoxication or blood rage. Some vampires avoid it entirely while others give into their desires.”

In simple terms, _murder_.

“ _Blood rage_ — What?”

“This is good,” mentioned Levi, ignoring Eren. He moved to sample what appeared to be pancakes. Juices from a variety of berries have long since seeped into the topmost, spongey layer.

“Oh, um,” was all Eren could respond with, head spinning, and a blush rising on his cheeks. He looked down. There was a brief lapse of quiet as Levi paused, debating whether he should say more.

“I often forget to eat. A byproduct of my upbringing,” spoke Levi, switching topics after tasting his second bite. “When I was young, the environment was unsuitable for growing children. Meals were scarce and I simply took what was necessary, regardless of the consequences.”

“Were you poor, sir?” guessed Eren.

“Orphaned. Vampires are quite durable but old habits are hard to break,” he said with a shrug, seemingly indifferent. The tip of his fork was used to push around a few meat chunks.

It was a rare treat to see Levi this talkative so Eren wanted to take full advantage of it. Unconsciously he leaned forward to listen, drawing his legs up to fold in the chair beside him.

“During the fall of Shiganshina, titans killed my mother and my father disappeared. It was increasingly hard for three supernatural children: a bruxa, werewolf, and werecat, to survive on limited food rations. Not quite the same but similar.”

“ _Bruxa_? So you do know of vampires,” acknowledged Levi, slowly working at the meal again.

“Next to nothing, sir. For the longest time, I believed my adopted sister was mixed.”

At the word, Levi wrinkled his nose, curling his lip. “I detest that term.” He sighed. “Bruxae are a type of higher vampire. There are also Alps and Mula. Each sub-type have different latent abilities unique to their clans.”

“What of the old tales? Are there any validity to those claims?”

Levi snorted. “Once you start believing a story then it is no longer just that and gains its own sort of truth. Although largely false, it doesn’t make the individual necessarily wrong or a liar if they aren’t aware of the fact.”

“Then others begin taking stock in it when there is no proof otherwise,” said Eren reasonably. “With many rare and endangered supernatural species, there would mainly be rumors, spread primarily by the population hunting them.”

“Precisely. Which is why unless you encounter someone of that particular race, information is highly inaccurate,” continued Levi, urging Eren to his own conclusion. Nearly one third of the Dutch baby was gone and Eren took note of the preference toward desserts. Next time he will bake sweet rolls. “But if you look hard enough, some tomes are not as inaccurate as others. There is always a grain of truth in mythology. It seems certain elders have a twisted sense of humor.”

To this, Eren licked his lips in deliberation, a nervous tick.

“A witcher that I met once told me: ‘ _There are not demons. There are not devils. Worse than that. There are people and people like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. They feel better then, finding it easier to live_.’”

Levi gave an agreeable nod, pausing to retrieve his mug of tea off to the side. “Wise man. Hexers and sorceresses usually have a better grasp of the world.”

Eren swung his gaze on the overly neat rows of books, lips curving into a frown. Levi steadily watched him from across the small distance and could nearly see gears turning beneath endless green eyes.

Then he blinked and impulsively turned to ask, “Does garlic harm you?”

Levi rolled his eyes, settling the cup in its designated saucer again. “That is an old wives’ tale originating from the church. Devout followers are a highly superstitious lot,” came his response, not really caring one way or the other.

“Since we’re on that topic, what about crucifixes or holy water?” he continued, surprised.

“If that were the case, I’d would’ve been dead long ago,” said Levi, calmly pointing above his head, drawing Eren’s attention. A beaded rosary was hanging from a nail, aged and forgotten. “Religious symbols hold no power over higher vampires but can deflect our lesser brethren. Keep in mind, the last person who doused me in water nearly had their arm prematurely amputated.”

Eren laughed, unapologetic. Levi narrowed his eyes, failing to find humor in a repeat scenario but didn’t appear to be angry. He settled back into eating, silence stretching as Eren gathered himself.

“How did they find out?” he said eventually, voice quiet.

A single eyebrow was raised as Levi mused. “Aren’t you full of questions,” He gave a soft sigh that exposed his fangs. His fork was set aside. “All vampiric races do not cast a shadow or reflection. Higher vampires can naturally conceal themselves if they want to evade detection. If I didn’t wish to be seen by others, it would be near impossible to locate me. It doesn’t work on titans but…” Other implications went unsaid during his pause. “Anyway, it was a careless mistake. In a place full of glass and candlelight, someone was bound to notice.”

Eren read into the small details, catching a haunted look flitting across the man’s face so quickly he nearly thought it was imagined.

“And sunlight?” he asked instead.

“You’re smarter than that. What do _you_ fucking think?” Levi quipped right back, nonplussed and drilling him with a flat stare.

Eren swallowed, treading carefully.

Bathed in ambient lighting, Levi still managed to appear otherworldly and dangerous. Once again forgoing the standard uniform for casual purposes or maybe out of defiance, he lacked any visible weaponry. His dark hair shone in the sun, afternoon rays cutting a stark line over both exposed arms. The skin on display was pristine. Not a trace of open, meaty wounds, burnt flesh, or mottling marred it. There wasn’t deliberately restrained pain hidden in those muscles, attempting to conceal it out of pride. Steam did not rise from him nor did Eren detect the telltale smell of singed flesh. Levi spread his hands, palms upturned so they could be examined. Carefully, he scanned each minute shift in Eren’s face with an underlying intensity that was unnerving.

“But how?”

“Hanji believes it’s a form of albinism or genetically inherited allergy. Higher vampires can develop a resistance to sunlight. Lesser are weakened and can be harmed by it,” said Levi, lacing his fingers together and resting either elbow on his legs.

“Did—“ began Eren.

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re nosy as hell,” concluded Levi, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Do you want to know my daily schedule too? Am I allowed no secrets?”

Eren made a noise of disappointment, eyebrows furrowed. “But I didn’t get to ask if you turned into a giant bat.”

“If that were the case, do you think I’d be able to keep that goddamn information to myself? It’s _the military_ , Eren,” Levi dubiously glanced at him.

“I suppose not,” Eren said almost dejectedly. He had half-entertained the idea of other shape-shifters in the Corps beyond a select few.

“Since you’ve been insistent on giving me the third degree, what can you tell me of werewolves?”

Eren raised his head, genuinely curious. His eyes were wide, unsure why Levi might be interested but was willing to indulge him nonetheless. “You’re going to be disappointed. Our race isn’t that fascinating. But… What would you like to know?”

“Anything. Whatever you’re willing to tell,” Levi replied tonelessly, simply waiting. Grey eyes watched him, inscrutable and bright.

So Eren started.

He jumped between thoughts as they came to him, expressing his limited knowledge- pack symbols, tracking game, hunting, bestial characteristics, specific behaviors, memories, sub-types of therianthropes. He never claimed to be an expert. Rather, voicing what was on his mind held its own cathartic value, putting him at ease.

To his amazement, in spite of the occasional caustic remark, Levi was a vigilant listener and it was strange being the subject of another’s undivided attention. He took it in stride, intelligently posing a question or providing a tactical response at the right time, clarifying information, and broadening Eren’s tales. This was beyond odd- as if something critical were hanging in the balance. It was marginally different than their last encounter. Of course, he was still a subordinate and Levi was tasked as his handler, charged with his death, and ultimately to keep him in line. Yet, he wanted to impress Levi. He wanted to understand this man who was larger than life. It felt incredible to exchange opinions and to be considered at the same level even if it were out of pity or misplaced sense of duty. This new thing between them was fragile. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself. But for once, he was reasonably happy.

 

 

 

The following couple of weeks scraped by uneventfully. Hanji balanced experiments between him and the two captive titans salvaged from Trost. Levi was only seen in passing since their conversation in the library (Hanji, appearing sly, deflected his babbled apologies on the forgotten research) but was present for every experiment, waylaid to the sidelines as a deadly promise should he lose control. Eren continued his training with the Special Operations Squad, squeezing in sessions with the 104th when his schedule wasn’t already occupied. The entire compound was rife with activity.

When the day arrived for the 57th expedition to venture outside the walls, Eren felt nothing but anticipation. He was eager to prove his worth— to show that he was reliable as humanity’s ally, that all he endured up until this point wasn’t for naught, and they would survive to return successfully. The atmosphere was charged with an electricity as the Scouting Legion convened near the gate of Karanes District in preparation. Voices buzzed around him, warping into a cacophony of sound and his eyes cut across the crowd, inadvertently seeking the wings of freedom on Captain Levi’s back. He took a good look— shoulders straight, head held high, almost bored expression— a perfect, composed soldier and to Eren, was a final reassurance that everything would be alright. It was enough.

 

 

 

There were terrified screams, whirring of lines being released and anchored, pure, terrible agony and strong emotions echoing throughout the Forest of Giant Trees, nipping at the heels of their horses. It wasn’t until later that Eren was aware the entire right, outer flank of the long range scouting formation had been utterly eliminated by special infected.

Tree trunks, larger in circumference than most buildings combined had branches and segments of wood splintered, raining to the dirt below. The ground thundered and air was displaced from the force of each collision, drawing near, too close— coming for _him_. Eren couldn’t quell the helpless despair that stole his breath away at the sight of the Armored Titan looming behind in their relentless pursuit— the same phantom haunting Shiganshina and that he relived in the trauma of his memories. Dappled shadows of the canopy caught on the hardened plates, rippling like the roll of waves with each heavy stride. He should’ve known. But at the same time, how could he? There was a stifled undercurrent of panic that rippled through Levi’s squad. How many more must suffer? What should they do? There had to be something! Please let them be alright, don’t let them be among the dead—

Commander Erwin’s surprise ambush deploying restraint weapons did nothing to slow their advance. Fresh blood and entrails watered the vegetation. Weapons were demolished.

Captain Levi barked an order then and in the midst of Eren’s indecision, hand automatically raised to his open mouth in deliberation whether he should transform, the Special Operations Squad flew away from him, straight into combat.

The hesitation cost him.

Gunther was the first to fall. Snatched by the extended wires and strung about like a play thing, he was hurled into the ground, broken corpse mercilessly tossed aside. Oluo followed, aiming for an exposed knee joint. With little fanfare, he was kicked into a nearby tree, swatted and flattened like an annoying insect. Petra and Eld soared in unison, witnessing their comrades’ demise. Instinct drove them and dictated their actions, not a moment to process or grieve. It was happening too fast. Eld seized an opening, heedless of Petra’s warning yell. He didn’t stand a chance, severed in half, pieces of spinal column sprinkling down to be crunched underfoot with the remaining halves of his torso.

“No, no, _no_!” Petra ground out and instinctively reeled back, using a swift maneuver to avoid the blow that would’ve resulted in her death.

Time froze and Eren shouted in abject horror, refusing to believe it. He barely noticed when his horse was yanked in the opposite direction, body moving the reins on its own accord, heading toward one of his greatest fears. Strapped in maneuver gear, he launched himself into the air cursing, adrenaline in his veins and rage burning his lungs, shuddering out of his tight chest with each strained breath. He flew at an urgent speed— too slow, _too **damn** slow_— sea of gore a blur below and the dozen of titans approaching distant boundaries where sunlight was unable to penetrate the leaves.

Green eyes became unholy, vibrant torches on a pale face, expression fierce and seething through a clenched jaw. White teeth, too many and sharp like knives, viciously tore into the meat of his hand.

The resulting explosion shook the surrounding area, washing it in a field of white.


	4. We're Falling So Far, Endlessly Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was initially supposed to be longer but I decided to split it into two separate chapters. Feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!

* * *

**“Even if surviving wasn’t simple, easy, or fair. Even if he could never be human. He wanted the chance to matter. He wanted to live.”**  
― Victoria Schwab

 

Awareness came to Eren between brief snatches of consciousness and delirium. When he awoke, it was sudden, his body paralyzed, suspended between horror and imagined demons as his senses adjusted to reality once more. Thoughts were sluggish in returning to him, fleeting, and indistinct. Noises down the hall were too loud, distorted, his ears overly sensitive when perceiving them through the pounding of his head. The sun’s rays filtering in through a nearby window still managed to burn his eyes which he squeezed shut against it, circles of color spotting his vision.

He groaned, breathing ragged, choking on nothing, and there was a sharp inhale from across the room. The hurried scuffling of boots was quick to follow as he turned his head, a figure, bleary in the surrounding halo of light, swimming into clarity.

“Eren, don’t move yet. You’re still recovering,” advised the person, hovering at his bedside. There was a trace of worry and underlying disquiet evident in their voice.

The world tilted as he forced himself into a seated position, joints and muscles alike inflamed, aching from new growth pains. He should be concerned, unable to ascertain the cause due to monumental gaps in his memory. Now, partially upright, his body was sluggish to respond, useless, extremities gone numb and his head swam, a dizzying rush of nausea overtaking him. It was entirely possible that he was concussed. Opening his mouth to speak, he found his tongue heavy like sand and nearly as dry and grainy, throat burning under the strain to voice actual, coherent words. His canines were bared, previously denting his lip, an unconscious side-effect of his body reigning in control during its varying stages of healing.

“Where—“ he croaked.

“Stohess District. Not more than fourteen hours have passed since our return.” Mikasa cautiously replied. Fingers of either hand twisted in the covers, showing great restraint rather than throwing herself at him.

“Who—“

Fielding Eren’s question, a second voice captured his attention. It was Armin that delivered the news, expression grim and posture tense when he appeared next to Mikasa.

“The entire right flank was nearly decimated, suffering heavy casualties. Commander Erwin’s capture strategy was unsuccessful and the Special Operations Squad lost Gunther, Oluo, and Eld. Petra is in critical condition, recovering from head trauma.”

Eren closed his eyes, taking a fortifying breath. He forced down the combination of grief, anger, and helpless despair warring inside of him. After putting the entirety of his faith in their capabilities, he’d still gone against their wishes to transform, ultimately failing to avenge them. He nearly risked the entire mission along with his safety they fought so desperately to preserve. All for what results?

“And the armored titan?”

Armin’s frown deepened and he hesitated. He shifted uncomfortably as if debating whether to reveal the unfortunate truth or not.

“Gone. The person inside escaped.”

As if sparing him from any further explanation, the door to his room clicked open and in strode Levi, addressing the occupants without any preamble. Tea set balanced on one arm, he still made an imposing sight.

“Arlert, Ackermann, Erwin wants a debriefing in his office. _Now_.”

Mikasa turned on him, eyes blazing. “I won’t leave him. Not after—“

“Such loyalty,” Levi offhandedly commented, staring at her in silent question.

“We can visit later, Mikasa. Quite a bit has transpired. Let him rest and process everything,” Armin said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before stepping aside. He knew Mikasa’s protective instincts were nothing to be trifled with. However, Eren was valuable to the Corps. Anybody blessed with sight could see that and there was no place safer than near Captain Levi.

“You can’t keep him locked up here. It isn’t healthy,” she protested, possibly a feeble attempt to buy time.

“Would you rather he be in the dungeon? He’s free to go as he pleases with an approved escort,” mentioned Levi as if stating the obvious. “Do we have a problem, Ackermann?”

Armin tensed, prepared to be an intermediary. Mikasa glared in warning. “He isn’t a tool and shouldn’t be treated as such.”

Resting a hand over Mikasa’s fisted one to soothe her ire, Eren spoke. “You should go, Mikasa. Don’t cause any trouble or fight with the Captain.”

“You’re one to talk, you idiot. With each kidnapping, you shorten my life-span by a couple years,” chided Mikasa, shushing him. Although her voice was harsh, the tone she used belayed every bit of pent up relief housed inside her. She bent over, pressing her lips to the crown of his hair. Eren, in turn, tilted his head up as she leaned further down, meeting him halfway so he could rub his cheek against hers in consolation and an apology.

Levi watched the exchange with interest. Armin’s lips quirked up as he moved toward the doorway in wait.

“I won’t order you around, Eren, but do realize I care about you and take that into consideration next time before you act,” Mikasa attempted to negotiate, retreating a few steps to give him a once over. Eren slid his eyes to Armin as well.

“I have nothing to contribute,” Armin cheekily added. “Mikasa has always been better at guilt trips as you are well aware.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eren snorted. He afforded himself a private smile, shaking his hair until it was tossed back into some semblance of order.

Levi navigated around the pair to set the tray on a beside stand, already preparing two porcelain cups. “Alright, the lot of you get out.”

Bidding him farewell, Armin ducked out first, Mikasa following suit but not without giving Levi a particularly nasty look. The door closed in near silence beyond a soft click of the latch.

Left in the surrounding quiet as Levi steeped their tea, Eren wracked his brain for a moment before ultimately deciding to hell with it, blindly charging forward like usual. Had he lost control? Even though his body was here physically, it felt as though a piece of him was left behind, hallowed and scooped out like it hadn’t returned quite yet. Raw emotions lingered in the outer recesses of his mind, his recollection hazy.

“Am I to be reprimanded?”

Turning to face him, Levi stared long enough it made Eren fidget under the scrutiny. Eventually, he replied, “No, you chose the path of least regret. I cannot fault your actions.”

A cup is passed to Eren which he took automatically, once again unsure where this placed him. There is nothing he could’ve possibly done to earn this level of trust. He would never forgive himself where things stood now.

The drink he took was sweet, sickeningly so and went down his throat like syrup. It tasted of chamomile.

“Wanting to live, the reason in which you fight, survival in this cruel world is a selfish existence,” said Levi, nursing his own cup through the hot steam wafting past its rim. “Each of us move in accordance to the path we deem best. Who’s to know whether our actions are right or wrong? That an alternate timeline may have branched as result? All we know is now. We can either allow ourselves to become stagnant, paralyzed by confusion and hurt or continue forward, scarred, but with purpose.”

“But, if it weren’t for—“ Eren began, miserable with shame.

“Don’t finish that sentence. Each person has the capacity to make their own decisions, Eren. Gunter, Oluo, and Eld were duty bound to protect you and gave their lives,” was Levi’s harsh interruption. “Are you shitting on their memory by saying they were incapable? Didn’t know the associated risk? Or maybe that you weren’t worth it? Is Petra in critical care for nothing?” He approached the bed side, a dark force with eyes gleaming down at Eren in a manner that demanded absolute honesty.

“I—“ said Eren then stopped. The denial sounded weak to his own ears, like it wasn’t his voice and childish at best.

Levi’s expression tempered into something mild, partially solemn or tired. It was hard to tell. “They will live on in us as memories because we chose to keep going. Any victory of ours is a triumph for the fallen. That’s what I choose to believe.” Levi trailed off into a loaded pause, although what shattered it was not any jeer or straight up malice which Eren halfway expected. Only poignant contemplation. “Tell me, what happened to that boy who planned to eradicate all titans? That wielded his grief and anger as a weapon for the sake of mankind? Do you plan to lay down and die like a dog, Eren?”

That roused a glare from Eren, a pronounced scowl conveying more than any words. He may be broken. They all were to some degree. But he was not a common mongrel or pet to anyone.

“Ah, _there_. Remember _that feeling._ Now finish your tea because we’ve things to do,” said Levi approvingly.

He shot Levi a perplexed look, thrown for a loop which seemed to be happening often where Levi was concerned. Wasn’t he supposed to be resting? His body disagreed, having been immobile for too long already. “Where are we going?”

“To visit Arkay and honor the dead.”

 

 

 

Unlike Shiganshina, at the center-most location of Stohess was where the Great Temple of the Nines resided. Houses, streets, and store fronts rippled out in neat rings from this focal point. A lone spire loomed above the entrance, dragon’s flame alight near its peak and flying buttresses extended from the main structure like spider legs. Ivy and moss crept up the exterior foundation blocks, framing borders and windows. Thick veins of magic passed through here, smaller way lines branching from this natural wellspring.

Eren lingered outside for a moment, captivated, finding the old architecture mesmerizing and basked in the thrum of magic that permeated the building. He had attended sermons and worship services with his family, coordinated by oracles, yet, he had always remained indifferent to the divines. The local temple frequented in Shiganshina was a shack, dwarfed by the sheer size of this one— barely two stories, a wooden cabin that carried a musty scent, patchwork roof that leaked, homeless soliciting donations at the entry, the worn, chipped mosaic on the ground inside, peeling, and faded paint.

Staring in child-like wonder, he had clutched his mother’s dress, reaching for luminous trails and illusions that drifted close.

 _‘It was so long ago’_ he reflected.

Levi ascended two steps and turned in askance, cloak swirling behind him. Eren hurried behind, climbing the stairs, pulling his hood down.

Inside, fresh incense was lit, its clean fragrance dissipating in swirls of smoke. Stained rose and lattice windows, portraying legends of each divine, scrawled along every face of the main tower and colorful flecks dotted the floor, oscillating with the shifting rays. Grand stone pillars, carved walls, and balcony railing only reached halfway, the entire ceiling and back wall a clear, decorative glass flooding the entire cathedral in light.

Alters lined either wall of the nave, beneath archways. Symbols unique to each deity, in the form of metal statues, rested in a carved niche above each shrine, along with large potted plants. Some of which have overgrown their vessel, vines scaling the nearest corner or healthy leaves brushing the ground.

One robed apostle knelt at the inner sanctum, scroll unraveled across their lap, head bowed while reading. Another clergy member moved to enter a side door, ingredients in hand, tending to unknown business.

Eren cast his gaze about, absorbing everything, taking into account the strange lack of patrons and staff alike at mid-day. Normally there was a high priest or priestess conducting rituals, transcribing prophecies, or practicing alchemy. It was odd for a place of worship to be this deserted.

“Sir?” said Eren, gripping his cloak to him nervously. They had walked past a few alcoves, stopping at the third.

Levi glanced over his shoulder, a finger held to his lips. _Don’t ask, trust me._

Eren nodded, noticing an elderly woman at the neighboring shrine. She was as unremarkable as she was unfamiliar and kept to herself, bouquet of lavender in her arms— the herb was preferred by Kynareth.

A maroon, opaque vial was procured from a pouch at Levi’s hip and he waved Eren closer, removing the lid with a faint ‘pop’. When he raised his hand, a whitish-blue, glowing mist trailed up his fingers, clinging to them like a glove only to be directed at Arkay’s holy symbol. The potion morphed into crystallized flowers, projecting their own source of light as the illusions floated forth to settle on the ledge below.

Their names were repeated in his head— _Gunther, Oluo, Eld_ — deserving nothing less.

There is no way he could forgive himself for their deaths. However, he could do right by them. He was grateful that Levi forced out of his room, not given a chance to succumb to any grief but instead channel it properly and cope _together_. Perhaps Levi could’ve gone alone to the chapel, allowing Eren to spiral down a dark path of regret. But he hadn’t. How many funerals had his Captain attended? The answer was probably too many to count. He was always present for Survey Corps memorials, a silent vigil for those in mourning.

But this, he couldn’t figure out which was more unexpected— Levi casting a spell, performing a small, private service himself, no doubt in addition to others, or being given a coin, trusting Eren to understand, anticipating his need to share and participate in the experience.

Eren fumbled when accepting the token, Levi’s hands pressing it into his palm, lingering briefly to steady the tremor he hadn’t felt.

They moved in unison, rinsing their arms in the water basin as Levi recited a hymn in a forgotten language and both gold coins were tossed in the offering dish at the stand’s base.

Eren took this opportunity to really _look_ at his Captain, religiously dragging his eyes over him.

His voice was subdued but the timbre was rich, deep and soothing, echoing in the narrow space between them— it was strong enough to not break beneath the weight of remembrance and responsibility, ferrying wishes for the deceased. He believed in this man, more than any divine intervention that could’ve become a placeholder for instead. Sure, he had worshiped what Levi encompassed and the Corp’s mission. However, the Levi before him now, and the Levi his minds-eye created were separate entities that he had come to reconcile since meeting a few months prior. This one, he realized, albeit unusual and somewhat reclusive, was far more compelling. How, the small kindnesses he displayed stuck out to Eren. How, he was the right mix between respectful and defiant. How, _despite everything_ , he felt connected to this remarkable person, coming to know Levi on a deeper level. There were still mysteries he enjoyed puzzling out given time.

But with the gods as his witness, _fucking seriously?_ His thoughts ground to a halt, tripping over themselves in enthusiastic abandon as they fled. He could’ve just slapped himself. Obvious idolization aside, of course he would be the one to develop an unrequited infatuation on his _superior officer_. This isn’t the type of situation to be pining after someone, Eren!

Hues of purple, white, and blue bathed their figures in a kaleidoscope of melding colors. Eren could not tear his eyes away, feeling water gathering at their edges.

Levi was _breath-taking_. He shouldn’t want this—

Then, having forgotten himself in the midst of his revelation, Eren suddenly stiffened, on-edge. Hairs raised on the back of his neck and a sensation all too familiar slammed into him.

Without turning, wide green eyes scoured the immediate vicinity, connecting with a piercing gaze belonging to the same elderly woman seen earlier, now giving them her undivided attention. Her expression was unreadable, carefully measuring with too keen eyes.

Eren pulled in a shaky breath through his nose, vision tunneling. Time seemed to stretch the longer he was trapped in her stare. His chest felt cold and raw, heart hammering in an irregular rhythm. _Does she know what they are? How could she tell? For what reason was she watching?_

The hand that clasped to his neck, at the nape, startled him, warmth sinking into the exposed skin, grounding and drawing him back to the present.

_Oh—_

Levi’s voice barely reached him, Eren uncomprehendingly glancing in his direction at first like he was wading through a dream. Silver eyes remained closed, head tipped forward. His blank expression gave nothing away, perpetually calm. Haven’t they been in this situation before? “Shh, Eren, you’re alright. _I’m right here_. Focus,” he was saying.

It would’ve been easy to relinquish himself to Levi’s instruction, spoken gently as if it were a suggestion. But something didn’t sit well with him, unable to let it go. He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut as if coming out of a trance, and touched a few fingers to his brow. When he chanced another look, the woman was gone. The lavender, bound with a braid of rue was left in her stead.

 

 

 

Separate from the chapel but on the same area of land, an expanse of garden and hedges blanketed weathered markers. Two near-identical, winged female sculptures, along the fenced, wrought-iron outskirts, guarded the cemetery. Near the middle, a marble mausoleum led to underground crypts, burial vaults and columbarium, and a circular, tiered fountain trickled out front, base filled with etched prayer stones.

The sky was partly cloudy when leaving headquarters, now completely overcast but did not herald rain, ushering in a cool breeze. Eren had naturally fallen into step with Levi as they navigated rows of headstones. Most were upright, some large obelisks representing wealthy stature, a few bearing ornate carvings, a couple unseen, drowning in visitor’s gifts— all were crowded, too many bodies for a single plot, patches of tilled earth interwoven throughout to squeeze in more.

Their pace was a leisurely charade, masking the intent driving each step. His initial question went ignored, Levi consumed by thought, and Eren didn’t force conversation, content to trail after, waiting in patience. He had grown accustomed to Levi speaking on his own terms and sensed this was one of those times. Something was troubling him.

Meanwhile, he had taken to skimming dates on the graves in passing, determining the individual’s age of death.

ELLIE CRAWFORD. 846-847. Beautiful daughter that the gods fell in love with. Embraced by Arkay. Until we meet again.

_So young. If only things had been different._

Ahead of him, Levi stopped, at his feet a small grave with coping encasing the marker. New, bloomed stems of Gladiolus and Fennel had been replenished, swaying in its ceramic urn. Weeded and neatly trimmed, the patch was well-tended, and an older willow sapling was within view, long, fringed leaves billowing when touched by the wind.

From this distance, Eren couldn’t help but think Levi looked like he was suffering where no-one could reach him. The composure he normally held that kept others at arm’s length shattered for a brief, vulnerable moment, his gaze penitent.

 _‘How can you still look so sad and alone? Weren’t you just telling me you were right here? Don’t go somewhere that I can’t follow’_ he wants to say. But he internalizes it. Any rational person would’ve given Levi a chance to gather himself, hang back until allowed in. Eren couldn’t stomach the sight, wanting to erase that pained look.

He approached, somewhat intrigued, somewhat apprehensive at what lay in wait. Maybe he didn’t really want to know, having to fight the urge to turn away. Subconsciously, his body made the decision for him, already moving to kneel on the damp grass. Sweeping away excess dirt, he read the two inscription lines:

FURLAN CHURCH. 824-844.

ISABEL MAGNOLIA. 828-844.

Simple. No poetic verses or flowery epitaphs.

When Levi spoke, his voice was rough, tired in a way Eren never heard it.

“Do you remember when I mentioned my conscription into the military?”

“Yes, I had been curious but didn’t want to pry,” confessed Eren, keeping his eyes trained on the grave.

Levi sighed, a worn sound hardly louder than the breeze and said after a while, “My mother was a slave in the Underground. She was raped by someone she trusted then I was born as a by-product of their coupling. Although she managed to hide her pregnancy and me for the first few years, withering away to almost nothing, eventually she was found out. Helpless to do anything, she was murdered in front of me and I was abandoned at a filthy street gutter, kicked out by her master, left to die.”

Wide green eyes snapped to Levi, dumbfounded and shocked by the admission.

“A man named Kenny found me on the verge of starvation and taught me the skills necessary to fight. Maybe he felt pity or had an ulterior motive, I still don’t understand why it was me. At seven, I was abandoned when he no longer found any use for me,” automatically said Levi as if he were weaving a sad tale, not his own life that had transpired thus far. “It was in that same hellhole I met these two.”

“I’d like to hear about them,” came the soft response.

He finally turned to Eren, actually taking him in, silver eyes raking over his face. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“ _Still_ ,” bargained Eren, shrugging as if one word were an argument in itself, refusing to budge.

“You’re a stubborn bastard,” said Levi, only half-exasperated, the other part curious.

Eren grinned. “Are you really that surprised? I’ve heard it is one of my redeeming qualities.”

Levi gave a little laugh that might’ve an exhale, contained under his breath. Another minute or so elapsed before he went on, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Furlan was a mula that joined a gang at a young age to care for his crippled, ill brother. Obtaining medication and supplies from the surface was pricey. Like most children of the Underground, his life must’ve been difficult but he never told me the extenuating circumstances. We met when he helped me escape an unfortunate situation… only to lure me into a set-up afterward. To test my abilities in a poor recruitment attempt. He was a good strategist like your friend.”

There was a fondness that warmed Levi’s tone. It left a tender feeling in Eren’s chest and good-natured, he said, “I didn’t know you were a thug, Captain.”

Levi snorted, “That’s what you take away from this? Your tact and skills of observation leave something to be desired.”

The comment was so unexpected, Eren laughed, a bark of sound that was more animalistic than human.

Beyond Levi’s normally cold expression held a trace of amusement. “Sometime after Furlan joined me, I found Isabel, an alp, bloody, beaten, in a garbage heap— her relatives presumably dead. The slums were not forgiving to the supernatural. It was just the three of us, all higher vampire kin without clans.”

He gave Eren a sidelong look. “I suppose in that regard, we are similar. Except you grew up instilled with the fear of titans instead of humanity alongside it.”

“Were you—“

How could Eren even finish that sentence?

“I made sure nobody had a chance.” Levi said, flat as if obvious. Of course not a single person could touch him.

“Could you not go to the surface?” Was Eren’s next guess.

Levi shrugged this time. “If not abandoned and gone to ruin, perhaps. The underground is a crime capital, run by syndicates and a nice place to make people disappear— discarding those that are homeless or poor without depleting the value of districts within Wall Sina,” he said, making a face. “There was only one guarded route, its toll exorbitant in price, meant to divide the wealthy from sewer rats.”

“Then how did you—“ Eren started again.

“The three of us had stolen maneuver gear from the military police, garnering attention from the Corps. Erwin’s squad bested us and blackmailed me into submission— thus being conscripted,” Levi patiently said.

This was the second instance Eren regarded him in pure shock within a span of minutes.

“Oh, quit it, Eren. You can’t possibly be that dim. Erwin uses anyone to his advantage given the opportunity. You’d do well to remember that,” offered Levi, nudging the leg closest to him with the toe of his boot.

“Well—“ he complained, but came up empty so he closed his mouth, blushing at his impotence.

“There’s no shame in being played by the best,” Levi surmised, tilting his head in acquiescence. Definitely not sympathetic. Then, came his murmur, “Ultimately… I was the one who killed them,” voice so hushed, almost inaudible, that Eren nearly didn’t catch it.

“ _Captain?_ ” he wheezed as if the air was punched out of him— incredulous, worried, hopelessly _concerned_. That couldn’t be true. He refused to believe this man was a murderer.

Eren stood in a rush, catching Levi’s shoulders in his hands and squeezed, fingers digging in. “ _Explain_. You can’t possibly mean that.” He hovered near, hesitant, not moving to further push any boundaries although he wanted to just shake the answers out of him.

Expression inscrutable, Levi was at the perfect height to lean forward and rest his head on Eren’s shoulder, eyes refusing to leave where they fixated on the divot of his collarbone. So he didn’t think about it before he changed his mind. He didn’t yank himself away. He allowed himself to indulge in the comfort freely offered in this wretched moment— so sick with guilt, two monsters reflected on their sins.

“Cap— _Levi?_ Please… tell me. There’s— What have you done? Help me… understand,” Eren prompted again, jilted and striving to guide Levi’s focus back to him. When leaned on, he tensed but remained still enough, shoulder dipping beneath the added weight. There was no turning back. He had to know.

“It’s a long story,” mumbled Levi, a last ditch effort to sway him.

“I have nothing but time, sir,” huffed Eren in partial relief. He narrowed his eyes, straining to listen or glimpse any sign he’d gotten through. Just when he was sure Levi had given up on the conversation:

“Humiliated and defeated at the hands of Erwin, I vowed to kill him,” Levi began, unable to draw his head back up from where it hung, defeated. “There was a man who sought the underground’s network to contract a hit on him. I had no intention of enlisting so the setup couldn’t have been any more perfect.”

The way Levi approached his story this time was with a strange sense of detachment, leaving Eren uneasy. However, he remained quiet.

“Furlan executed a plan during our first scouting expedition outside the walls. However, the weather conditions rapidly deteriorated. It poured rain. Dense fog rolled in, shrouding any titans and other squads. I…”

Levi broke off, wetting his lips.

“Argued with Furlan— Refused to see reason, too consumed with my need for vengeance. It was the _perfect opportunity_ ,” he said with emphasis, not sure who he was striving to convince. Maybe he was still trying to rationalize it after all these years. “Furlan and Isabel stood down. They rejoined our squad in order to allay suspicion toward my disappearance. Not long after riding ahead, I encountered the corpses of an entire unit and immediately turned back. But… I didn’t make it. Five rogue titans…”

He choked on his grief, wrenching his eyes shut after. Years had passed and he could still vividly picture it, returned to that horrific scene.

“By the time I cut them down, Furlan was torn in half— all that remained of Isabel was her decapitated head, vacant eyes skyward.”

An irrational anger surged inside Eren at witness to such torment, wanting to carve out the old wound plaguing Levi. Staring, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull him closer. But he wanted to. To comfort him— _something_ — but what was the right approach in this situation? What did he have to offer? So he did nothing. And hated himself a little more.

“My _arrogance_ — If I hadn’t left— if I hadn’t made the wrong choice, they’d still be alive,” said Levi, thick with disgust and remorse. He drew back like a whiplash and his mouth tightened in a thin, unhappy line. Eyes that were previously haunted had sharpened, daring to meet his.

Eren released him, jerking away in surprise. “Levi—“

He continued, brushing aside the subsequent refutal— that his ‘thoughts were misplaced’, that he ‘did everything he could’. _Bullshit_ , all of it. His words were nearly snarled, too raw, too fresh with pain, lips pulled back to flash sharp teeth. “But in the end, none of it really mattered. The man that hired us, was arrested for embezzlement of military funds. Erwin predicted our eminent betrayal and had mailed the incriminating documents to Zackly before the expedition even began. Our mission, _my revenge_ , it was all a ploy. For research or a gambit, I still don’t know which, the Corps lost a considerable amount of new recruits, these two among them.”

Eren blinked, frozen. His brain struggled to produce a proper reply.

Everything was just _wrong_. He willed his fists at either side to unclench, flexing his fingers, prepared for a fight against something that didn’t exist. The strong urge to protect someone that didn’t need it rose within him, fueled intrinsically by his canine nature, inherited through generations of werewolf ancestors. Gods knew Levi didn’t require anybody to shield or coddle him. Nothing about him was remotely _weak_. If anything, such thoughts would more than likely offend him. But Eren _wanted_. Wanted to be considered an equal, to be relied on, to be needed in this moment. To be enough for someone else. Jaw relaxing out of its clench, his instincts roiled against him— it took tremendous amounts of will to suppress them, not dumping his emotions on Levi, and focus openly.

 “Erwin told me something that day… ‘Who was it that killed your friends? Had it been me? _You?_ No, the titans are to blame for this world. Look around. If humanity can learn more about the unknown, discover a method to defeat them, then maybe this suffering will open up to a brighter future. One that won’t be limited to fear and confinement within walls’.”

Levi dropped to his knees, graceful but almost as if they’d finally given in. His fingertips reverently brushed over the names.

“Isabel and Furlan were always optimistic, dreaming of something better— to live under the wide open sky she said.” _Ironic,_ his mind supplied _._ “Although these graves are empty, I couldn’t let their memories, their hopes, _their dreams_ , end with just me. Even if the caretakers or a passerby were to notice, then that’s proof they were real.”

Eren’s hands twitched, throat bobbing as he swallowed past the lump constricting it. He longed to thread his fingers through those dark strands, cage Levi in his arms, stroking long and soothing along his spine as he was held close. But he shouldn’t. He didn’t give into the temptation.

“That’s why I fight, Eren. No sacrifice is in vain,” challenged Levi. “I will not force anyone into this or have them make the decision lightly.” _Not even you_.

Here before him was this individual, struggling with himself to project order and control, executing everything he attempted flawlessly, that was just as _jagged_ along the edges as _he was_ laying his past out on the table in the only way he know how— _take it or leave it_.

Gods, Eren was so fucking screwed. There was only one correct response he could give.

“More like good luck getting rid of me at this point. You’re stuck with me, Captain,” joked Eren, smiling at him in determination. He would follow this being to the end of the world as they knew it. _Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for giving me an out and thinking of me._ Heavy and unspoken, it lingered between them. But he didn’t want it. _How can you be so kind?_

Levi glanced up at him, a slight tilt to his head, the way someone would examine a peculiar item that wound up in their possession, one that they did not understand how such a thing got there. “I’m really beginning to question your sanity,” was his dry response.

Eren just laughed, fleeting and light. Weren’t they all slightly crazed to be in this line of duty? “And here I thought we were bonding.”

Levi snorted. “You little shit.” He shook his head, rubbing his temples and stood. Whether it was to collect his scattered thoughts or ease the tension slowly building there, Eren couldn’t tell the difference. ”Fuck, I’m tired. Let’s get something to eat.”

Knowing better than to dissuade him and equally drained, Eren agreed. But it didn’t stop him from boldly listing a few suggestions. Being in good company, sharing honesty and despair— it wasn’t so horrible.


End file.
